Witchcraft
by 666TheWitch666
Summary: Ryou is forced through an occult ritual by the voice in his head. Now, life stands to become a bit more complicated for everyone.
1. Chapter 1

Just an idea that stuck. Reading Anne Rice, the Witching Hour again (Amazing book BTW) And considered what she said about spirits, and how that might relate to the spirits in this context.

They feed off a "Witch" or medium, and often attach themselves to one witch, or a family of witches, or an object, or a place. The ghost of someone that once lived, they often forget who they were. They can hold their form, when the attention of a witch is on them. They use a witches' focus, pattern, water, blood, and their surroundings to gain in strength. They create their form either by projecting the image of themselves into the minds of a Witch, or by gathering particles from the air around them to create a solid, yet temporary body.

I do not own The Witching hour, and you should definitely check it out. I also don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. I do, however, own the specifics of this plot, beyond the general.

* * *

/Do It!/

Ryou trembles, as he draws the images of power in charcoal on the table. Charcoal prepared of blood and rum, weeks ago. Cold sweat runs down his face, his eyes flashing nervously about. The source of the voice is here, he can feel it. A presence in the apartment beyond himself.

A pyramid, the eye, the pentacle. Across the table, arranged carefully are many seemingly random items. A thin layer of water is sprayed evenly over the entire arrangement. Four tall wine glasses substitute chalices. One contains dirt. One water. Another it empty. The third is half filled with gasoline, half with fire. A headless rat, dried with tail curling, sits across the tabletop from its missing skull, cleaned of all flesh. Many herbs are tied in bundles with strips of black cloth.

/What are you waiting for?/

Bakura, invisible, malevolent, watches the proceedings. Incorporeal, the spirit can do nothing without his host. His witch.

Ryou stammers through the beginnings of a spell, in Latin. The dead language in more than one way.

/Say it right, you fool. Focus on my form as you speak. Concentrate, bring me together!/

The innocent one clears his throat, and starts again, more firmly, his accent coaxing the words into a careful rhythm. The particles that make up the entity that is Bakura swirl, thicken. His form, transparent now, is visible for all those with the eyes to see.

/The next step, quickly!/

The ghostly apparition wavers, its substance thinning and thickening with the increasingly rapid beat of Ryou's heart. The pale boy pauses, his breath caught in his throat. He can see it now. No more doubts, unless he really was insane… Unless this was just another stage of deepening madness. No matter. Ryou's jaw sets, firming with resolution. No point going back now.

Ryou holds herbs over the flame, one by one. The smoke rises, wafting through the darkened apartment. Strange how any room can appear eerie when lit only by flame, flickering over mundane objects, making them surreal and strange. The spirit gains in substance, taking the smoke in, breathing it. His physical strength swells, his form thickens.

Next a scroll goes into the flames, the words written upon it in ancient hieroglyphs darkened and carried on the eddies of air to the spirit.

Stable now, holding together, he grins.

/The rat, if you please, landlord./

Ryou winces as he gingerly lifts the body of the rat between two fingers, by the tail. He holds it over the flames, almost gagging as the stench of burning flesh fills the room. The flames rise up the dry husk, licking at Ryou's delicate fingers. He gasps, dropping the rat into the chalice, where to his astonishment, it is completely consumed. The thick black ash cloud is drawn to Bakura, mingling with his own makeup. Really there now, anyone could see the pale, white-haired fiend. He inspects his hands, a look of concentration on his face.

"The last step, if you don't mind?" He says aloud for the first time, his voice dry and cracked.

Ryou's trembling starts anew, as blood rushes from his face. He looks at the long, wickedly pointed knife before him. He lifts it, hand shaking so badly he can barely hold the weapon, much less use it.

"Pathetic, as usual. Allow me." Bakura snatches the blade, wields it with obvious glee. He takes Ryou's hand in a mercilessly strong grip, pinching a nerve, forcing the fist open.

Widening in panic, the light's eyes watch the knife as it slices through the flesh of his palm. Blood trickles into the chalice, puffing into nothing. Bakura releases the captive, leaving Ryou to nurse his injury, curled up and sobbing.

"Its not permanent, but it will do. In fact, this might just be better than a real body. What do you think, Landlord?"

Ryou sits, staring in shock at his bleeding hand.

Bakura grips him by the collar, glaring daggers into the averted eyes. "I asked what you think."

Ryou's mouth opens and closes like a fish on the deck of a ship, metal barb through it's cheek. His mind began then to comprehend what he'd done, what this could mean for him. Thus far, Bakura could control his body, torment his mind, hurt his friends, but never actually physically hurt him. Now…

The spirit smiled, reading the thought from the other's mind. Experimentally, he punches Ryou in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Gasping for air, the weaker drops to the floor, released. Bakura kicks him, bruising his side, forcing him to roll.

"Why are you doing this?" Ryou begs, his voice a breathless hiss of pain.

"Because I can, my little plaything." Bakura said, before dissolving and vanishing back into the confines of his ring.

...

Ryou limped to school the next day. It would take more than a few bruises to make him miss class. Heavy bags hung under his eyes; he'd been unable to sleep. He'd watched as the spirit practiced appearing and vanishing, holding his new form for longer and longer spans of time in random locations. Ryou tried not to look at him, in the high window of that house, sitting on a bench calmly, standing on the sidewalk across the street. Ryou spots his sometimes friends and turns abruptly to avoid them. The last thing he needed was for them to see him like this. He made for a short wall, designed to keep the grass from a lawn from intruding on the sidewalk.

Suddenly, an invisible leg shot out in front of him, completely destroying his balance. He bashed his face directly into the aforementioned wall. His cry of pain and astonishment captured the attention of everyone within hearing distance, including…

/The hero squad cometh./ Bakura comments silently, smug. A strong sense of foreboding overcomes Ryou. He's planning something.

"Ryou, what happened?" A little crazy- haired kid asked, bursting out of his group of friends and coming to a halt in front of Ryou, eyes widened more than usual with concern and curiosity.

"You just tripped, over nothing! Are you ok?" Yugi offered a hand to help Ryou off the ground.

"I'm fine Yugi, really." Ryou played innocent, though his voice was strained. He took the offered hand. A sudden dizzy spell forced him to sit on the offending wall, as a streak of blood runs from a scrape on his forehead.

"Your hand, it all bandaged up…" Yugi points out, looking at the amateur job Ryou had done with some gauze and tape.

"Oh, its nothing. I cut myself chopping tomatoes." Ryou says with feigned nonchalance.

The rest of the 'friendship squad' was drifting over, following Yugi around like a…

/Like a rank odour/ Bakura chimed in

/That's an unpleasant way to put it, and not true./

/Is./

"Ryou, earth to Ryou…" Yugi was saying, waving his hand in front of his occasional friend's face.

"I'm sorry, I was just…" Ryou searches for an explanation. A shadow of suspicion crosses Yugi's face.

"It wasn't… He's not back, is he?"

Ryou shakes his head, firmly. No. But the fear in his eyes tells a different story.

"I'm just tiered, Yugi. We had better get to class, or the professor might be angry."

Yug let the matter drop reluctantly, a pang of pity moving him as Ryou limped his way to the school door.

"Hey, at least let me take you to the school nurse. Your head…" Yugi says tentatively.

Ryou puts his hand to his forehead, and feels the warmth there. The sight of the blood makes him dizzy again. He flicks his hand, sending scattered drops into the air. Drops that seem to disintegrate, never hitting the ground. Across the street over Yugi's shoulder, Bakura grins at Ryou before dissolving himself.

"Well, Ryou?"

"Pardon? What?" Ryou re-focuses on Yugi, having utterly lost the thread of the conversation.

"The school nurse? You really seem kinda out of it. You might have a concussion."

(I hope that's the problem.) A dark voice comments, one Yugi alone can hear.

* * *

There, the first chapter. Kind of short, I know. I'd like to see if there is any interest in it, before I go all out. I don't write well without feedback. I tend to loose interest if no one else shows any. Kapish?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 yay! I'm actually really starting to get into this one. Planning ahead and the like. I've got the next chapter ready and waiting, and as always, feedback ftw.

I don't own Yu-gi-oh. Or anything Talamasca related that may appear in later chapters. Yeah, that's right. I said it.

* * *

The school nurse busily shuffles papers around on her desk, sorting them into piles. Every now and then she enters a note on her computer. The slow creek of the opening door interrupts her, and she closes her eyes a moment. 'Give me strength.' she silently prays.

Every day she had to deal with droves of teens suffering with "I forgot to do my homework syndrome", and this day hadn't even started yet.

Ryou limps in, blood dripping from his head. He smiles weekly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Pots." He says pleasantly.

"Oh, Bakura, again? This is the third time this month!" She shuffles him over to one of the medical beds, as Yugi looks on with concern.

"I know, and I apologise. It was an accident this time, not them. I… tripped." Ryou says, hesitating over the details of his 'accident'

Yugi raised an eyebrow at Ryou, as if to say, 'this time?'

"Bullies." Ryou mutters to him. Unlike Yugi, Ryou's darkness couldn't care less what happened to their body, as long as the damage wasn't too severe. Defending his host from bodily harm went against his desire to toughen the boy.

Ryou winces as the nurse used a strong smelling liquid to clean the wound. She taped a square of gauze over it, and passed him two Tylenol.

"Go home, Ryou." She says maternally, clearly worried. "You are in no condition to be at school."

"But Mrs. Pots!" Ryou protests, eyes wide.

"I can take him, Nurse." Yugi chimes in. "I know where he lives."

"No, no, that's no necessary." Ryou insists, thinking of the various occult items still sitting in plain sight on his desk.

*This woman is worse than Irritating.*

Mrs. Pots' eyes drift to the corner of the room. She blinks, shakes her head. She could have sworn Ryou was over there, too.

"I'll write a note for both your teachers. Bakura, if you feel dizzy, go to a hospital. Don't go to sleep before twelve hours are up. Precautions against concussion."

Yugi nods dutifully. "I'll make sure he follows your advice Ma'm."

"Yugi, really, I'm fine…" Ryou pleads, knowing a lost cause when he sees one.

Yugi grabs his hand; his injured hand, and pulls Ryou from the Nurse's office. Ryou grits his teeth in pain, barely stifling a gasp. "Yugi, hand…"

"Oh, Ryou I'm so sorry!" He lets go abruptly. "Anyway, thanks for getting me out of class."

"Well, I'll be going home. You certainly don't want to spend your freedom babysitting me." Ryou started for the bus stop, heaving a resigned sigh when he hears Yugi's rapid footfalls behind him.

"No way, the nurse says you need someone with you, and with your dad out of town, I'm your best option." Yugi avoided saying 'your only option' out of kindness, but Ryou caught the undertone.

… … … … … … … … … … … … ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. ... . .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... …. … … …. … … … … … … … … … …

While Ryou and Yugi argued their way across town, the school nurse returned to her paperwork. Perhaps she could get something done without an interruption.

A stack of carefully organised forms topples at random off her desk onto the floor. She groans, looking at he ceiling and asking 'Why me?"

Her high heeled shoes make it difficult to get down after the sheets, but she manages it. She plucks sheets from the floor with brightly painted nails, carefully stacking them. Finally, she has them all in the crook of her arm. That's when she notices the feet. Simple white sneakers, at the end of school uniform pants. Her heart beats wildly for some reason. Just a student. She looks up to the student's face, to ask for a hand up. Her jaw drops. Her eyes become impossibly wide. A low sound of terror escapes her mouth.

The face out of nightmares, its eyes smoking black voids, its mouth a perfect circle of nothingness, its hair clearly knives. The bones of the ribs show through the uniform shirt in places. The image twists and distorts, and the void mouth slides forward, larger and larger in her vision, until all the world is blackness.

… … … … … … … … … … … …. ... ... ... ... .. ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

On the bus, Yugi's cell phone rings. Ryou sighs, then shakes his head animatedly when Yugi looses focus on him; Bakura had just appeared in the seat across the isle, and judging by the curious looks of other passengers, he is fully visible. The spirit shrugs, and vanishes. For a moment, though, Ryou could swear that he became a monster of nightmare features, sharp edges, and death. He shuddered.

"What do you mean, insane? An ambulance? What happened? How can no-one know?"

Yugi pauses, listens.

"She was fine when we saw her a few minutes ago!"

"Yugi, what's going on?" Ryou demands.

Yugi holds up a finger, silencing Ryou, and continues to listen to the phone.

"Well, let us know when she's allowed visitors…"

Yugi hangs up. "it's the nurse. Apparently she had some sort of breakdown. Her symptoms are… familiar."

"Familiar? How so?" Ryou asks, confused.

"Oh, blank stare, not responsive, nothing physically wrong…"

Ryou looks thoughtful. "Banished to the Shadow realm?"

"Sounds like it." Yugi sighs

"But who?" Ryou asks, though he feels a distinct sense of foreboding.

Yugi shakes his head. "I wasn't me, and it wasn't you. We were together. So… who else has the ability? Who might have had motive?"

"No one. No one with ability and motive, anyway." Ryou sighs. He knew someone who could probably have done this, and he knew perfectly well that that someone needed little or no motivation to justify cruelty.

"Who does the nurse know? Who is she close to? If we find that out, we'll find the target. Our enemies always target friends first." Yugi reasons.

"Lets not leap to conclusions here, Yugi. Perhaps she is genuinely mentally ill." Ryou points out.

The bus slows to a stop.

"This is us." Yugi says, cheerful again.

"I know. It's my building, Yugi." Ryou says with a sigh. How to explain his clearly ritualistic evil altar of evil? That is evil? With evil on top.

They climb the spiralling staircase; the elevator had been broken for years. The wallpaper in a dull yellow, peeling off in multiple places.

"You know this place is a dump, right?" Yugi mentions in passing, tearing a strip of the paper right off the wall.

"Yes, I had noticed that, actually." Ryou smiles lightly. His wooden door is chipped in multiple places, the brass knob rusting somewhat.

"This may take a moment." Ryou comments, inserting his key and applying the full weight of his shoulder to the wall. A second try, and a third, before the door finally springs open. Ryou gestures for Yugi to precede him

"Yugi, I should explain. I'm working on a… school project."

Yugi looks around the run down apartment. The door opens into a threadbare living room, carpet hopelessly worn, though meticulously clean. To the left, along the same cracking blue wall as the door is a small tiled kitchen, looking quaint despite a cracked mirrored backsplash and a few chipped tiles. The color scheme of brown cupboards, beige peeling countertop and off yellow refrigerator only works because of its spotless shine. The tiles are patterned dark brown and beige. The whole kitchen is open to the rest of the apartment, separated by a countertop. A sliding glass and screen door leads to a small balcony, and a closed door of dark wood can only lead to the bedroom.

The kitchen is furnished with a cheap wooden table and two chairs. The living room contains a couch in light blue, with a coffee table and small television. To one wall, on a short end table is the "school project"

Yugi looks at the creepy evil altar of evil with evil on it. And more evil. Did I mention evil?

"Cool, Ryou! Is that a pentacle? Can we use it? Can we talk to the dead? Can we play duel monsters on it?" Yugi prattles, just a bit over -excited. He leans over it and pokes the rat skull, not noticing the chill.

"Yugi, do you really need some ritual to talk to the dead?" Ryou laughs, shepherding the short teen to the kitchen.

"No, I guess not. What was that book? The big black one?" Yugi refers to the volume sitting open on the altar.

"Reference book." Ryou explains, as he pulls some canned soup out of the cupboard.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Um…" In all honesty, Ryou had no idea where the book had come from. He'd fallen asleep in bed one night, and woken up sprawled across his living room floor, book tucked to his chest. Turns out he's missed three days of school. "I… uh, library."

"Really? I didn't see… hey, is that minestrone?" Yugi, completely sidetracked, smells the soup.

"Yes, in fact it is."

* * *

Where did Bakura get that book? Will someone come looking for it? Who brain fried the nurse (Three guesses, and the first two don't count) ?

Find out in the next chapter! Maybe.

And a big thank you to **subaru1999, **Reviewing and stuff. We'll just wait and see, shall we?

Edit; ok, I think this format works now. Everything isn't all clumped together anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Holy freaking views. I'm a bit overwhelmed, people. So this story officially continues for at least a few more chapters.

I'd like to post an official thank you to all those who favourited/ alerted this. You know who you are.

And to my reviewer, **Lightmagegirl4437. **You're right on both counts. I really think I could have used more evil. And mixed in some evil, after adding a dash of… you guessed it… cornflakes! Nah, I'm just yanking your chain, its evil.

I do not own Yugioh. Or the Talamasca. Read The Witching Hour. May be the greatest book written. Oh, I also don't own the doctors. Lets see who recognises them.

* * *

Chapter 3

Ryou and Yugi slurped soup contentedly, Ryou attempting to do so with his left, un-bandaged hand.

"So, what class is your project for?" Yugi asks between spoonfuls.

"Pardon, my what?" Ryou asks, confused. Behind Yugi, out of the teen's line of sight but perfectly visible to Ryou, Bakura rolls his eyes.

"Your project? You know, that one?" Yugi nods toward the altar.

"Oh, of course, that project. Um, its for… my… history class?" Ryou stammers.

"Wow, you guys are already on the Medieval Witch burnings? We're still stuck on ancient Greece. There are more civil wars to cover than any other civilization we've gone over yet. I keep getting acropolis and Herodotus confused…" Yugi launches into a heated monologue complaining about the writings of acropolis.

The phone rings, interrupting his description of Troy. Ryou sighs as he gets up to answer it. He's actually enjoying having Yugi over. Its nice, being with someone who will carry on a civil conversation. Someone so naive, they can look upon the evil altar of evil and see nothing wrong at all.

A professional voice speaks over the phone. "Is this Ryou Bakura?"

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"Mrs. Pots' records indicate that you were the last student to see her before her breakdown. We would like you to come to the hospital, there are a few questions we would like to ask. Tell the receptionist at the front desk who you are, she'll send you up."

"Oh, alright. I'll be right there." Ryou hangs up as the line goes dead.

"I'm going to the hospital, Yugi. They want to ask me about the nurse." Ryou says quietly.

"I'm going with you. You might need a friend."

In the mirror across the hall, Bakura appears. Behind the glass, he smiles.

…...

Ryou places a hand gently over the school Nurse's cold forehead. Her eyes continue to stare blankly forward, despite numerous attempts to close them. When it was tried, her lids simply slid open slowly, with autonomous slowness.

"Now, did you notice any symptoms? Anything that might have indicated something was wrong?" A doctor in a white lab coat asked, his accent distinctly Australian.

"No, she seemed fine." Ryou responded.

"Did you bring anything into the room with you that might have caused an allergic reaction?" A bald black doctor asked, looking up from his clipboard.

"Um, no?" Ryou says, after thinking a moment.

An attractive brunette rushes into the room just then. "I didn't find anything at the apartment." She shoots a look at Ryou.

"Any luck with him?"

"No."

"People don't just suddenly fall into a coma for no reason." Another doctor states, limping into the room, supporting one leg with a cane.

"Lets do obscure and highly illegal tests on her to determine what her illness isn't."

"Its… crowded in here. I'm going now." Ryou comments, backing out of the hospital room slowly. Yugi was waiting at the front desk for him after all.

Ryou reaches the reprieve of the hallway. He looks back at the room. If he was somehow responsible for this…

"Hello, Ryou. I was wondering, is this the room of Mrs. Pots?" A gentleman asks, speaking in a distinct British accent, much like Ryou's.

"Yes, may I ask who you are? I don't believe we've met." Ryou questions suspiciously. A stranger knowing your name is rarely a good sign.

"Oh, I'm Gregory. Gregory Winehurd." He offers a hand, and Ryou grabs it, shaking formally.

Gregory's eyes narrow.

"You know what? Here's my card. You can contact me if you discover anything about this unusual situation, or if you just want to talk. I am a part of an organization, one might say we collect ghost stories. True ones, at any rate."

Ryou took the card without thinking.

It said

Talamasca.

We watch, and we are always here.

Ryou moved to pocket the card. Bakura, transparent yet present, placed a hand over Ryou's.

*Throw it away.*

Ryou glared at him, speaking aloud without thinking. "Why? What does it matter to you?"

Bakura grins. *It looks like I'll have to teach you another lesson on the subject of obedience…*

Ryou trembles, looking away. The strange man is staring at him, concern and understanding written in his face. Ryou's mouth drops open, and he does the only thing he can think to do. He runs. The paper drifts away on the breeze, settling on the floor. A strange wind catches it, wafting it out the window. The little card is swept down someone's chimney against all laws of physics, and is promptly incinerated. The ashes then flush themselves down a toilet.

"You do know I have more of those, don't you spirit?" The man says aloud to the empty air, chuckling.

He gasps a moment later, as his pocket spontaneously combusts. He hastily pulls his jacket off and stomps on it, trying to put out the flame. The sprinklers start.

"Why didn't you do that with the other one?"

Bakura chuckles demonically in the man's ear. "I didn't know I could. Stay away, scholar"

…...

Meanwhile, at the front desk, Yugi sits on a chair and swings his legs back and forth.

"Tell me again why I can't go up there?" He asks the secretary.

"Because the doctor forbade it." She responds curtly.

"That doesn't even make sense!" Yugi grumbled.

*Is it really a good idea to let Bakura of all people up there? I tell you, Yugi, something is going on.* Yami insists.

/you don't think he's responsible, do you? You banished the ring's evil./

*Yes, I did. Multiple times. Because he keeps coming _back_, Yugi.*

/point taken. But still, why?/

*Because he's just crazy, Yugi. And he enjoys causing others pain.*

/I still think he had nothing to do with it./

*believe what you will, I'm still keeping our eyes open. Did you see that clearly evil altar?*

/school project, Yami. You really have to stop being so paranoid./

Just then, Ryou came to a halt in front of them, breathing heavily.

"Ryou, what happened, is everything alright? Why are you running?" Yugi asks, panicky.

Ryou looks confused. "I'm not really sure… crazy doctors… British guy… card… lets just get out of here, shall we?"

Just then, the sprinklers turn on.

* * *

Well, good times? I can't help but mix a little humour in there. I'm thoroughly enjoying writing this, I hope you all like reading it.


	4. Chapter 4

Ok, so I went back and changed a few things I didn't like in previous chapters. It flows better now. A warning for this chapter. If you don't like reading about blood, or violence, or fish death, don't read this. If you do, consider yourself warned. Very warned. Heck, this is a Bakura fic, am I right?

I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. Or the Talamasca. Or Japan.

* * *

Another nightfall saw Ryou home alone. More or less. He could feel the presence f the spirit in the room, part of the air itself. It bumped into things, almost clumsily it would seem. Ryou pressed his index fingers to his eyes and massaged them gently, as the distinct sound of a plate shattering on tile floor crashed through the apartment. Thus far, however, his spirit had made no attempt to punish him.

Ryou's fish bowl sat on a counter, the goldfish swimming lay circles. Almost the instant he though of it, the bowl slid off the counter of its own volition, and shattered on the floor, spilling water everywhere and leaving Ryou's closest friend high and dry. He leaped to the scaly creature's rescue, filling a glass with cold water and dropping the panicked animal into it.

"Can you not go find something else to do?" Ryou demanded of the empty air, instantly regretting it as the room seemed to pulse.

A whirlwind gathered around him, stinging his flesh, piercing him, drawing his blood from him. Bakura was visible before him a moment later, the sennen ring glowing faintly. He looked… calculating. Amused even.

"Perhaps I could, if that is your wish, landlord." His face twisted to rage in an instant. "He dares to come HERE?"

The solid, life-like apparition faded in an instant. Ryou could almost feel the presence drawn out the windows. It seemed a breeze ruffled his hair.

Truly alone now, Ryou sighed with relief. He set about cleaning the broken glass and spilt water. He paused, eyes on the altar. He should really get rid of that.

Leaving the debree field, he dismantled the evil setup one piece at a time. He wiped away the symbols, put the herbs, and after a moment's thought, the rat skull, into the compost. The glasses he emptied and cleaned. He left the book; it gave him chills to touch it.

Grabbing a broom out of the small pantry, he set to work cleaning up the disaster area in the kitchen. An abrupt knock at the door interrupted him. 'Yugi again, perhaps?' Ryou thought, in an attempt to calm himself. In truth, he had no idea who might be calling at this time of night. He set the broom against the wall, and it promptly slid to the floor. Oh well.

Ryou had to pull hard to get the door open, with much wiggling of the handle. "Just a second, I'm coming" This was much harder from the inside. At last the door sprang open, Ryou ready to start stammering apologies, but the words froze in his mouth.

In the doorway, in his own apartment building, stood the Englishman from the hospital. His hair was a natural steely grey, dusted with white. Old, kindly blue eyes were set in an agreeable, mature face. His suit was old-fashioned, the kind no-one in Japan wears, yet clearly finely tailored.

"Can I help you, Sir?" Ryou asks tentatively.

"I was actually hoping to speak with you, if I may. Not regarding your nurse, at least not directly at any rate… I think I, that is to say we, can help you." The man smiled in a kindly manner. Ryou liked him immediately.

"Come in them I suppose. I apologise for the mess." Ryou moved aside, to allow the man entry.

"Oh, and your doorbell appears to be broken. Something you may wish to discuss with your landlord." The man looks around. "Among other things."

Ryou winces, the term 'landlord' striking a cord in him.

"I am sorry, I believe you told me your name at the hospital, but I've forgotten." Ryou comments pleasantly, crouching to retrieve the broom. He hated to clean when he had guests, but he hated having guests in a dirt apartment more.

"Lets see if you can't figure it out. I want you to look at me, concentrate on me, any try to pull my name from me. It may help you remember." The Englishman said, with a gentle persuasive manner that belied the strangeness of the words he spoke.

Ryou found himself doing as the man had suggested, and oddly enough, it worked.

"Gregory. Gregory Winehurd." Ryou paused, but found he could continue. "Your mothers name was Gwennith, and she didn't want you to join this order of yours."

Gregory appeared more than pleased. "Better than I had expected, I'll admit. It makes sense, though, considering…"

Ryou looked at him from a sideways eye, as he resumed sweeping the floor. "Considering?"

"You were not the one to break those things, were you, Ryou?" Gregory's blue eyes drill into Ryou's brown ones, seeming suddenly icy and intense.

"What do you mean?" Ryou asked cautiously.

The man looked to the book pointedly. "I mean that playing with spirits is dangerous. They are unpredictable, wayward. You were a fool to summon it, and if you continue to play with it, it will destroy you. Even the most powerful mediums, witches, cannot fully control these beings. And stealing books from ancient orders is potentially just as dangerous. Do you understand what I am saying, young man?"

There was a sudden shift in the air, a presence. The temperature dropped. Gregory looked about cautiously, licked his lips in a nervous manner.

"Do you think I had a choice?" Ryou demanded of the Englishman. "You think I called him to me?"

"I believe that with your abilities, you dove into a pool that was much too deep for you. Send it away! I can help you! We can help you. Refuse to see it, ignore it, and it will loose power. This the ancients knew. Send it back to confusion and meaningless waiting."

The presence within the room contracted, a palpable energy, with the ring at its core. It continued to condense into the ring, and into Ryou. Using the power of the item, and his own increasingly formidable strength, Bakura took control of the body. He changed it subtly, as he had from the beginning when he first took his landlord's flesh for his own.

Menacing and cunning, the Thief King, the darkness, the spirit, stood before Gregory.

"Release him, spirit, for you are nothing to the world and can have no place in it!" Gregory stated with authority. Bakura laughed, as always, like a madman.

"I feel you need to learn to mind your own business, scholar. What on earth made you think that his pathetic worm had any control over what I do? I give him the orders. I punish him when they are not followed. He is my witch. I am not his demon."

"But surely, you need him. His attention, his love, his strength?" The Englishman reasoned. Rarely were cases of possession ever actually dangerous.

"I do need him, its true. But not for his love, fool. I need his fear, his loathing, his undivided focus and will on the object of his torment."

Bakura moved himself to the counter, in a seemingly subconscious way.

"You, however, Talamasca, I do not need." Bakura drew a long, thick knife from the knife block directly behind him.

"Shall we send a warning to your order? Should I kill you, do you think, or merely maim you?" He flashed the knife in the dim light, and advanced on the man seated at the small table.

"Think about what you're doing!" The Englishman reasoned, standing and backing toward the door.

"If I disappear, others will come seeking me." His back bumped the door. He fumbled with the knob. The door was stuck.

"Perhaps they would, if you did simply disappear. I doubt, however, that the discovery of your mangled corpse could be mistaken for an invitation. What do you think? Shall I carve "Unwelcome" or perhaps "do not interfere" Into your tender flesh? I'm rather partial to the second. Its longer." Bakura tossed the knife into the air, catching it in his hand as it fell. Advertising his skill with such weapons.

Afraid to turn his back on the possessed boy, Gregory struggled furiously to open the door, attempting to use both his physical strength, and his more formidable mental prowess. "This is a mistake!"

"No, the mistake was your choice to come here in the first place. All this over a book? If you cared so much, one would think you would better secure your vaults." The golden Sennen Ring glowed brightly through Bakura's shirt.

"Lets play a little game, shall we? I will inscribe my message. If you scream, I kill you."

…...

The news reports flooded the stations the next day. Police and forensic investigators were stumped. How had no one seen someone dump a body here, of all places. On the steps of the public library. Particularly a body that had been so… maltreated. They knew it was a dump, and not the murder scene. The murder scene would undoubtedly be covered in blood.

A new guy, fresh from training, vomited in a nearby bush. Even veterans of the force had to fight to keep the bile down. Who would… what kind of sicko…

"What do you think?" One forensic investigator asked another.

"I think we won't find anything here. This looks too professional. Too clean. They've done this before, I'd wager."

"So what should we tell the press?" A third officer asks, deliberately averting his eyes from the old man's corpse.

"Give them a face shot, we want to find anyone who might know this guy."

…...

Ryou opened his eyes slowly, the squeezed them shut. He had a brutal headache. It was so bad, he was seeing red. Steeling himself, knowing he probably had school today, he forced his eyes open. He was laying on his living room floor. Odd. And something was definitely wet and sticky, and all over him. The room still looked red, in blotches and spatters and puddles of red.

He struggled to recall the night before. He'd been visited by a nice man from Britain. They had discussed… his spirit. And then…

"Oh, no. Oh God, No…" Ryou stared with wide eyed shock. The red was real and the red was everywhere and it was…

"Blood"

His spirit had taken his body, and shut him out. Locked him up in the dark, and… what had he done?

Ryou heard a curious noise, a loud one, pounding and consuming him, and only after a moment did he realise that the sound was his own horrified screaming.

…...

Scrubbing, scrubbing, have to get it off, have to get clean, can never get it off, blood all over…

Ryou stood in the shower, hot water running over him, ferociously trying to remove the now invisible stains that covered him. He'd used bleach on his whole apartment, everything, even his fish, who now swam belly up in a bleachy watery mixture. He couldn't get the shadows of red off his snow white body, however.

"I have to… I have to go to school, I have to continue, I have to pretend nothing happened, nothing happened, I can't take it if I… but I didn't because nothing happened, these hand, these hands… nothing…"

At long last he climbed out of the shower. He re-bandaged his hand, white gauze and wrap on white skin that is red, and red, and red. He closed the door on his personal nightmare, wondering sincerely if he could every go back there.

* * *

Yeah, um, so. Ryou may be having a bit of a mental breakdown. Really, who wouldn't? Will the Talamasca take the warning seriously? Will Yugi wise up? (Oh, Ryou, your covered in blood. Are you ok? Did you cut yourself? Who's your friend? He doesn't look so good. Why do you have a knife?) lol, just kiddin.

Much review thanks to **Affy-Bakura **and **sarahlovesbakura** for the last chap, its people like you that make me want to keep writing. And to the curious, yea, it was House an palls. I wonder if the nurse still has both kidneys? /shrug


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5. The board is set, and the pieces are moving. I'll be away all weekend, so don't expect an update until at least Monday.

A big thanks to my reviewers (If I forget you, I still love you, don't hate!) I'm getting a little more in-depth here, 'cause, well, I can. So hah.

**Eressie - **Glad your having fun, and I fully intend to keep 'er going.

**Distance Between - **There is a limit to the Yugi Obliviousness, the question is, what is it? And when will the point of realization be reached?

**Affy-Bakura **- I know, fishy will be missed. His time in this tale was too brief… And thank you so much, I'm glad you like it!

**NulTide -** It can't be all doom and gloom, there might as well be a little fun. Things get darker, but I can't seem to completely shed the lighter side. Here's your update!

Without further adue…

* * *

**Ch 5**

Two men dressed in sombre black suits stood side by side in the refrigerated Domino City morgue. This particular facility was used solely for cadavers involved directly in ongoing murder investigations. Rows of shelving, mostly empty, line the walls. Before the two men lay a third, one who would never move or speak again. Stretched out on a gurney, half covered with a white sheet, a toe tag neatly identifying him by number.

"Is this your friend?" The only other living man in the room, a police investigator, asked. His tone was sombre, but faintly excited. This could break the whole case wide open. He watched the foreigners with rapt attention.

"Yes, this is indeed Gregory." One of the suited men, very dark of skin with a shining bald head responded, in an almost out of place British accent. The effect however, deep and melodious, was pleasing.

The other man spoke up, in an American dialect. "Any idea what happened to him, officer?"

"Nothing beyond what we've told you. We are withholding certain details from the public, to aid in our investigation, so if you could refrain from telling anyone what the writing says, exactly, we would be highly appreciative. We were hoping you could give us some insight. Before now, we didn't even know this man's name." The officer shook his head. "No forensic evidence at all. The wounds appear to have been made with a common kitchen knife. No identification, or even clothing found with him at the scene."

The black British man sighed. Steam from his breath puffed past his plump lips into the chilled air. "We are a part of a rather secretive group, officer. A historical society of sorts. We need to know if this death was in connection with his purpose in being here. To recover something of value that was stolen from our archives. May we have a moment alone with him?"

The officer looked about to object, even opened his mouth to refuse. Something stopped him, however. A look of confusion crossed his face. Absently, he nodded, and left the room, muttering something about hot coffee.

"Andrew, you know you're not supposed to do that, right?" The American joked, smirking at his friend.

"I think, considering the circumstances, I was more than appropriate. Now, Mark, if you don't mind… I know how this bothers you, but we really must know."

"Ok, ok." Mark looked considerably less amused. Removing his hands from a pair of unobtrusive brown gloves, he laid his bare palms on Gregory's skin. Immediately Mark's eyes began to flicker, as one's do during REM sleep. Suddenly, they flew wide, though still he stared with a glazed expression at nothing. "I've found it… oh god…" He mumbles, as he starts to shake. Andrew mercifully pries his hands from the corpse.

As soon as the connection is broken, Mark starts to sob. "I'm sorry… its just… I knew him and… what happened…I can't…"

"It is understandable, Mark, but I must know, what did you see?"

"He needs our help. The pale boy, darkness shrouds him. He has the book." Mark, so defeated moments ago, takes on an air of determination. "It is our place to watch, but sometimes, we are driven to involve ourselves."

"But the danger, Mark. Look what happened to dear Gregory…" Andrew bared Gregory's chest, where the warning is clearly visible despite the autopsy marks. 'DO NOT INTERFERE'

"I feel this message was meant for us." Andrew finished dryly.

"It was, but its all mixed up. It was the boy, but it wasn't… We have to go, I know where it is." Mark insists.

"Where what is, dear fellow?"

"The book."

…...

At school, Ryou sat alone under a tree, at the far end of the school's grounds. He was early; he'd woken in the middle of the night, and cleaned into the morning. He wanted to avoid conversation with, well, anybody, at the moment. Least of all Yugi.

He let his mind go blissfully blank as he watched the wind stir the leaves of the tree, imagining that he was in a forest far away, in someone else's life. Not in this city of hard concrete and steel. The grass beneath him was soft, studded with tiny white flowers.

Yes, if only the world would leave him alone, in a private world of his own choosing. As if to remind him of just what he wanted to escape, his spirit appeared seated beside him. Ryou averted his eyes, ignoring the penetrating glare that threatened to burn a hole in his head. Could he not be left alone, even for a short time? After… after the thing that never happened… didn't he deserve some space?

His spirit continued to watch him, until he could no longer be denied. Still looking away, Ryou addressed the other him. "What did you do? What did my body do? Please, just tell me you didn't kill anyone."

"If that is what you wish. I killed no-one." The spirit replied, a cold smirk on his face.

Ryou sighed, relieved despite all evidence to the contrary. "Where did the blood come from? It took me ages to clean…"

"Believe what you will." The spirit replied, nonchalant, shrugging carelessly.

The ring began to hum, one of it's spikes lifting, pointing at the school. Bakura vanished from sight, just as Yugi looked their way. Ryou could see him wave, and start in their direction. As he got closer, Ryou noticed a newspaper clutched in Yugi's hand. His heart sank.

Yugi dropped to the grass at Ryou's side, exactly where his spirit had been moments before.

"Its nice over here. Is this where you go so often?" Yugi asked.

"Sometimes. It's a good place to sit and think." Ryou replied in a quiet voice.

"Have you seen the news this morning?" Yugi asked

"No, what is it? Another card tournament?" Ryou grew uneasy; somehow, he knew this wasn't about cards.

"I wish, see for yourself." Yugi passed Ryou the newspaper. On the front page, in color ink, was a head shot of the Englishman Ryou had spoken with the night before. The last face Ryou remembered seeing before… Oh no. Ryou blanched, managing to read the headline.

"Murder In Domino" Ryou read aloud, his mouth dry. He read on, about the brutality and cruelty of the killing, the warning involved, the complete lack of evidence.

"I know, scary, isn't it? You hear about this kind of thing happening in other places, but this was right at the library. If I'd had to return a book this morning…" Yugi prattled.

"Mmmhmm" Ryou responded absently. His mind lingered on 'no leads' and 'complete lack of evidence'

/well of course, you don't think I'd be sloppy about it, do you? You're no good to me in jail, dear Landlord/ Bakura commented, directly into Ryou's mind. He flinched visibly.

(But I thought you said…)

/What you told me to say. Word for word./

(Since when have you listened to me?)

/I need you, Landlord, whether I like it or not. I would have to punish you most severely if you decided to, oh, turn us in? Pay attention, the runt is talking./

"…catch the guy. What do you think?" Yugi finished.

"Um, yes, I agree completely." Ryou said uncertainly.

"Are you ok? I asked what you think the police are going to do to stop the killer…"

"Oh! I'm sure they will check the man's identification…"

Yugi looked thoughtful. "I doubt it. He was kinda naked when they found him. Unless he keeps his ID in some very strange places…"

Ryou winced. "Not funny, Yugi."

"Hey, we should get to class. I really don't want to be late for algebra. My teacher's a nightmare." Yugi stated cheerfully, standing up.

"I know what you mean, if I miss even four seconds of Homer's translations, I'm going to be lost all semester." Ryou sighed, standing up as well.

/You Idiot./ Bakura commented conversationally.

"Homer? But I thought you weren't on Ancient Greece? Your assignment? Witch burnings?" Yugi asked, confused.

Ryou opened and closed his mouth a few times, completely at a loss. He spotted a patch of blonde hair a good deal above the student mass, back toward the school. "Look, its Joey! We should see what he thinks of the murder!" Ryou said, a great deal more enthusiastic that was normal. He took off to the school, an enthusiastic Yugi in tow. Conversation forgotten, at least by Yugi. Within the small teen's mind, however, a dark intelligence churned and seethed.

…...

"Here, the book was in this building." Mark said solemnly to Andrew.

"And in this building, Gregory died."

"Can you find the apartment?" Andrew asked.

"Yes. I can see the numbers on the door. The doorbell is broken. Third floor, apartment 35." Gregory said, walking through the front door.

"Is this not excessively dangerous? Should we really be going in here on our own?" Andrew asked, though he followed.

"Our own? Man, the cops will be here in a few minutes. Use that shiny head, we took off out of that station like we knew something. Of course they would follow us." Mark threw back, confidently. "We just have to beat them there. If they take to book as evidence…"

"We may never see it again." Andrew finished.

* * *

Oh, the suspense, the intrigue! Oh, the INHUMANITY! Will Bakura loose the book? Will the police arrest Ryou? Why does Bakura still need the book, anyway? And will Yugi ever grow the least bit suspicious? I know the answers to these, and many more questions. And you don't. Hah.

Oh, and a moment to remember a character that died before his time. A character we are so sad to loose. One who's personality and life captured the one scene he was in. So, RIP Fishy. You will be missed. *Flushing sound*


	6. Chapter 6

I'm back! Gotta love the run down look Cape Breton's got going on…

So, reviewers, you lovely, wonderful people, credit:

**Affy-Bakura**- I know, Ryou in Prison… *wince* I'd have to change the rating a tad.

**SkaleFlapper15**- Fishy will live on in our hearts and minds.

**NightmareTroubador**- Thanks, I'm glad you like it. More here, hot off the press.

**Chapter 6**

* * *

"I can't get it open. I think it's locked." Complained Mark, as he tugged on the doorknob.

"Allow me." Andrew moved in with a simple credit card, sliding it up the crack in the door. The lock clicked.

"You're sure there's no-one in here?" Mark asked nervously, standing in the partially ajar doorway.

"Do you doubt me, my friend?" Andrew said with a smile, pushing his way in.

"This is where it happened, but where did all the blood go? Do you smell that? Its bleach. The whole place reeks of it." Mark said as he wandered about the rooms, peering into the bowl containing the deceased fish.

"I've found our book. We should leave, if we wish to avoid questioning." Andrew stated, lifting the book and closing it with a dull thud.

Mark shivered. "You know those bad feelings I get? Right now, I feel like it would be a very bad idea to take that. Maybe its being in here, remembering what I saw, but I just… when you picked it up, I panicked a bit."

Andrew frowned thoughtfully. "As much as I respect your intuitions, Lord knows I remember the events in Cairo, I don't think we should simply hand such a valuable item over to the authorities."

Just then, the sound of booted feet ascended the stairs. "A bit late now. I hope you were correct with this feeling of yours."

…...

The end of another school day. Ryou dreaded going home, to the smell of bleach and the knowledge of…

His head hung heavy, and just when he felt things could get no worse, the clouds that had drifted in at lunchtime decided to open up, dropping large thick sheets of rain on the escaping student body.

Ryou sighed deeply, his hair steadily growing heavier and heavier. He raised his eyes, noting a bright flash of color through the downpour. Yugi, spikes drooping in the damp, waved to Ryou.

"Your bus just left! Bakura, hey, its raining." The little guy shouted through the rushing static.

Joey Wheeler followed Yugi a step behind, lifting a long soaked blond lock out of his eyes. "Hey Man, why don't you come with us? I was going over to Yug's anyway, we can hang out."

Ryou thought of his (he believed) empty apartment, his mysteriously absent spirit, and the long walk home in the rain with no bus. There really only seemed to be one option, despite his strong desire to curl in a corner and starve himself to death in guilt. "That sounds like fun, Shall we?"

The three, sodden and dripping, climbed onto Yugi's bus. Ryou wrung the water out of his hair, earning a laugh from Joey. The puddle quickly formed a small river, that sped away down a slight incline toward the front of the vehicle.

"I can't wait to catch the news when we get to Yugi's. I hope they got something on the bastard that killed that guy." Joey announced with force, Yugi nodding in agreement. Ryou stared out the window and watched the city streets pass, everything an appropriate shade of grey.

Ryou tuned out of Yugi's and Joey's discussion, sinking into his own well of thought. He was responsible for this death, the question was, what to do about it? He could hide forever with the guilt, the terrible knowing… and that seemed the only thing his spirit would permit him to do. Sure, he could try to turn himself in, but the thought of himself in jail was a bit too much. He doubted he would last more than five minutes intact in there. Sure, his spirit could save him if his life were threatened, or perhaps even permanent harm to their body, but there were worse things people in prison could do to you than merely kill you. Ryou shuddered at the unwelcome mental images. No, he could not go to prison.

He could kill himself. That seemed poetic justice, a life for a life, and he'd stop his spirit once and for all. Stupid fantasy, what made him think the spirit of the ring would give him the chance?

He could tell Yugi everything. Surely Yugi's dark side would do something about this. This plan seemed just as flawed to Ryou, however. He would have to admit to Yugi that he'd been lying all this time, and that would destroy any speck of trust and friendship there might have been between them. Furthermore, every time Bakura and Yami fought, the spirit of the ring brought others into it, or at least the light sides of the combatants. What if, horror of horrors, Bakura won this time? The puzzle would be his, and the gods know what a disaster that would be. Ryou simply couldn't risk it. He didn't know what his spirit had done to himself when he broke free from the ring, how much more power he had attained.

"Ryou? Ryou, this is our stop." Joey poked the absentminded teen in the back of the head, hard.

"Ow…" Ryou winced; his head still hurt a bit from his fall.

They disembarked single file, directly into a large puddle that soaked their sneakers to the sock.

"Aww, man!" Joey complained, as water sloshed around with every step.

It was only a block from the bus stop to the game shop, but the heavy rain and wet shoes made it seem much longer. Halfway, Joey started to laugh. It wasn't at anything, really, just their miserable situation, but it was contagious, and soon all three of them were laughing hysterically. Yugi pushed the door open, and they all piled into the shop. Joey leaned on the doorway to support himself, hands on his knees, still shaking with mirth. Ryou wrung his sopping hair out again, and Yugi shook his in response, starting another round of laughter.

"Come on…" Yugi managed to choke out, tears in his eyes. "The Tv's in the living room upstairs. I don't want to miss the news."

They spread dripping puddles on their way up the stairs, leaving their sodden shoes at the doorway to the house part of the game shop. After a moments thought, they striped off their wet socks, too.

"Ewww, Joey, your feet smell like a locker room." Yugi commented.

"Yea, well, I had gym today. It happens." Joey grinned, poking Yugi with the foot in question. Yugi made a disgusted face.

"So, we got a new TV, Grandpa couldn't be in the same room with the old one. Not after the whole soul snatching tape. Flat screen, and a DVD player. Nice, don't you think, Ryou?" Yugi said as he flicked the remote, switching on the television. The screen lit up with crystal clear picture.

"Oh, good, we didn't miss it." Joey said as a pretty news reporter lady appeared, in front of a small picture of the Englishman, before he'd died. He was sitting on a bench somewhere, feeding pigeons and smiling. Ryou winced.

"67 year old Gregory has been identified as the man found in front of a library just this morning. Police are following up several leads, including one that led them to this apartment complex."

A video clip began, showing a very familiar building, with cop cars and pylons, as well as several officers, milling about.

"Hey, isn't that where you live, Ryou?" Yugi commented with concern.

Ryou nodded mutely. His brain had frozen, disbelief and fear like ice poured into his bloodstream.

"They have no solid evidence yet, as the suspected crime scene seems to have been compromised. Anyone with a residence in this building is asked to report to the police station for questioning."

In the video, a fishbowl containing a dead fish is carried out in an evidence bag.

"Isn't that your fish?" Yugi asks, confused.

Ryou's mouth opens and closes mindlessly. Its over, I'm dead, I'm going to jail, oh God, Oh God…

Still focused on the camera, while the other two look at him, Ryou notices something that would likely be meaningless to most observers. He saw… himself. At the crime scene, cooly watching the proceedings.

…...

"Do you recognise any of these people, Mark?" Andrew asked, as residents of the apartment building filter into the police station.

"No. Did you think I would?" Mark replies tersely.

"We have people looking for the resident of that apartment as we speak, you know that. We'll find him before the police do. A shame the bleach damages the residual memories you normally find on objects." Andrew sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead, and rubbing back over his scalp.

"Apparently, the landlord kept no real records of his residents, apart from room number. Convenient for a criminal, don't you think?"

"Is that even legal?" Mark asked.

"I highly doubt so. Likely he is receiving his consequences as we speak." Andrew said, looking back to the door. "What about him?"

"No, I told you, young, but with white hair." Mark gritted his teeth. He should be out there, searching.

…...

"So, what are you going to do, Ryou?" Yugi asked, as the news report moved on to a theft at the local museum.

Ryou looked at Yugi, panicked. "W-What do you mean?"

"You live in that building. Do you want to head down to the police station now, or later?" Yugi said. "To think, the killer might have been in the building getting ready while we were both there. Creepy."

"Hey, Ryou, don't go down there. Them cops are nuthin but trouble, you don't want to end up a witness. Trust me. Hey, you can stay at my place for a while!" Joey said determinedly, a hint to his tone of past unpleasantness.

"Joey, you sure? Your dad's home…" Yugi said cautiously. He'd only met Joey's father once, and had no intention of repeating the experience, or subjecting someone else to it. He also had a feeling Joey didn't like people knowing about him.

"Oh, yeah…"

"Ryou, why don't you stay here? We have a spare room." Yugi said brightly.

Ryou nodded. "I think that may be for the best."

* * *

Sooo… what's Bakura up to? That spirit wouldn't be holding onto the book if he didn't still need it. Will dear Ryou go to the station? Will Andrew and Mark find him before the police do? Why is Ryou's landlord such an idiot? All this and more… maybe… coming up!


	7. Chapter 7

After a bit of a delay… Chapter 7! It should be a relief to you all… I have fixed my formatting! Yaaaay! No more everything blocked together! *dance of joy* I hadn't even noticed the problem before now.

On to the reviewers! Gold stars for everyone!

**Ani **Not completely sure what I caught you at, but… go me! I am deeply flattered by your appraisal. And… all will be revealed in time. Not in this chap, mind you, but eventually.

**TalTal19 **juicy, yes, most definitely. More juice in this chapter… people juice. Rejoice, for now I have figured out how to properly separate my comments from my story. Huzzah!

**Affy-Bakura **Can a day possibly go from dead to worse? And we'll just see about the missing mystery artefact, won't we. Not just yet, however.

**SkaleFlapper15 **I dunno, he is _a _prison type. The "everybody's B***h" type. Heh, hold onto that soap, Ryou. Not that It'd help.

* * *

Chapter 7

Ryou woke up in the middle of the night, screaming. He breathed deeply, cold sweat covering him, his eyes staring forward into the darkness. His dream… he struggled to forget. Walls sweating blood, oozing the red gunk, dripping from the ceiling into his hair, all so old fashioned, ancient even. Hieroglyphs interrupted and obscured by streaks of blood, body parts, bleached white and still draining, a hand like a discarded white glove smeared in red… The final image, the image that had woken him… The Englishman's head, mouth hanging limply open, tongue protruding and eyes looking lifelessly up and to the side, on a table, no, an altar, that horribly resembled… Ryou clenched his fists and shut his eyes tight, a low moan like a wounded animal crawling out of him like sliding worms from a corpse.

He tried to console himself. Can't have been real, the body was intact, wasn't real, didn't happen…

A light flicked on, blinding him, the surprise amid the horror forcing another scream out of him, as involuntary as breathing.

"Ryou, Ryou are you ok? You were screaming… Wow, you look terrible." Yugi said, concerned. His eyes drooped sleepily, and he was wearing a loose pair of pyjamas, patterned with Kuribos. As he stood in the doorway, he yawned, raising a hand to stifle it.

Ryou panted, trying to calm himself. Only Yugi, only Yugi…

"I'm fine… just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, Yugi." Ryou said, just above a whisper.

"Do you want to talk about it? It must have been really bad." Yugi smiled invitingly.

Ryou shuddered. "No, no, I think I would rather forget it, to be quite honest."

"If you're sure. I can leave the light on, if you want."

Ryou, on the verge of protesting out of embarrassment, had a sudden vivid image of the darkness closing in about him again, mysterious and suffocating. He nodded meekly. "If you don't mind…"

"Night, Ryou."

"Goodnight, Yugi."

In his own room, Yugi lay awake despite his exhaustion. Transparent, visible only to him, his spirit sat at the edge of the bed. Yami wore the same outfit Yugi did; the Kuribo pyjamas. They really looked quite cute on him.

"Something is very wrong, I can feel it. I wish you would accept that sometimes, coincidence is more than mere chance." The spirit said with a frown. He cast his gaze in the direction of Ryou's temporary room.

"He's just upset. Someone was murdered in his apartment building, Yami." Yugi reasoned sleepily. He really just wanted to shut his eyes, just for a...

"I don't know, the Occult altar in his apartment, that he lied about, his odd behaviour, the murder…"

"I can't see the spirit of the Ring committing murder, at least, I don't think… He's always just challenged us to a game of cards, if he was going to kill someone, why not the item holders?" Yugi rolled over, burying his head in the blankets, becoming a tiered human cocoon.

"You can't just kill someone for the items, Yugi. Then they would pass to their next destined possessor. One must win an millennium item, or receive it from one who willingly gives it up." Yami said with frustration, to no-one, it seemed. Yugi's breathing had become deep and regular, his mind blissfully blank, not yet dreaming, but not awake.

"Do not think I have forgotten this, Aibou." Yami said to the sleeping boy, vanishing into the item to which his soul was tethered.

* * *

"Its no good. He isn't going to show up. Its four in the morning, can we go to our hotel now?" Mark groaned, shifting on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the police station.

Andrew sat up straight, his eyes on the door through which the night-time offenders passed regularly. He hadn't moved an inch in over an hour. "Any news on the book, Mark?"

"Not since the cops stopped some guy from walking away with it. No one knows where he went, though. They said he 'vanished into thin air.' What are the odds." Mark drawled sleepily.

"In our line of work, quite good, I should say. Do you recall that time in Florida?" Andrew mentioned, smiling darkly. The overhead light gleamed on his head, the glare contrasting starkly with ebony.

"Of course. How is it the two of us are still alive, anyway? Every assignment they put us on ends up exploding. That time the guy didn't really vanish, though. He just, sort of, ran up the side of a building. Really fast."

"With an armed officer. Who was found in a dumpster, a dried husk, later that night." Andrew added, shaking his head.

"How did we even get in this line of work?" Mark asked the ceiling.

"Luck, I would assume." Andrew said, certain that the roof would fail to provide an adequate answer.

Andrew turned abruptly to the back room. "They seem to be onto something. One of the witnesses just described our pale youth."

"Bingo." Mark said humourlessly.

* * *

Within the empty quiet of the evidence room, a dark volume sealed within a plastic bag defied the tendrils of thought and darkness that sought to remove it. A solid form was required to handle the enchanted object; and away from his ring and his witch, Bakura was unable to maintain such a form for more than a few moments. There was no hope of getting the book out unnoticed, either. His unformed mass circled in agitation, knocking a few file folders from their places. Foiled, he drifted through the nearest wall, into a closed room. An officer sat across a table from an elderly woman wearing thick horn rimed glasses and a flowered dress. Behind a glass wall, a second officer drank a cup of coffee.

"tell me again, Agatha, your neighbour, the teenager, what was his name?" The man at th table all but pleaded. This had been going on for some time, apparently.

"Oh, yes, nice young lad. Looked a bit too, well, feminine, for his own good. In my day, a young boy had to be tough, not like today, parents, no discipline." Agatha prattled cheerfully.

"So you've said, but what was his name, for the love of all things sane!" The officer prompted, fingers pressed into his eye sockets.

"I was getting there, sonny, now don't rush me. Dolly Jean's always doing that, rushing me along, you'd like her, my granddaughter. Good looking girl, but the worst taste in men. If you'd believe, her last fellow had the most outrageous green hair, though not the worst I've seen. That Ryou Bakura next door, his friend's got even stranger hair than that. All red and yellow and black, and standing up like some ridiculous starfish in a lightning storm. Some big duel- game player, I've heard tell. 'King of Passtimes' or something like that. What ever happened to Jacks, I ask you?"

The officer had completely zoned out, thinking found thoughts of bed and late night television. He was, therefore, surprised beyond belief when his partner spoke into his earpiece. "We've got it! I don't believe it, we've got it! Get Dolly Jean's number for me, Then we are going to bust this case wide open."

The spirit thought quickly. This could go badly. Very badly. He had to act. A tendril of energy shot through both earpieces. This resulted in spontaneous combustion. The tape in the recorders melted. All circuitry in the entire building melted through the wires, all light bulbs exploded, and for good measure, pictures fell from the walls as trophies smashed forward out of glass cases.

Satisfied in regards to the chaos, Bakura left the dark and panicked station to re-locate his Ryou.

Two Talamasca investigators sat in the dark, blinking calmly.

"You may be correct. I think our boys in blue are onto something."

* * *

Silly granny is silly. I can just see Mr. police guy banging his head repeatedly on the desk while she goes on and on and on… and on. Hah.

When it comes to creating anarchy and complete confusion, I think Bakura might win a big shiny prize.

And more importantly... will officer with coffee ever get his date with Dolly Jean?

If anyone thinks I'm over-doing the OCs, just let me know. I rather enjoy their banter and chemistry, but if anyone finds them irritating or out of place…


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8, and it's here! Yaaaay!

So, crazy number of views, but only three reviews? L

I likes reviews pease? Hairless guinea pig commands it! random.

Sry, I'm done whining now.

Thx to you three, however. This chapter is dedicated to you!

**Affy-Bakura **Yeah, I wasn't sure if the dream was a bit over the top, but figured, heck, why not live up the genera?

**Ani **Very much appreciated, I liked the imagery there too. I'm glad to hear my characters are believable. There are no characters from the witching hour, just a backdrop of the Anne Rice world.

**Earthluva **Huh, my editing program keeps trying to automatically change your name to "Earthquake". Don't worry, you can bet they get paid a good hunk of money to listen to that woman. Bakura isn't quite as… upset as one might imagine. He wants Ryou to get closer to Yugi, though why… well, all in good time.

* * *

**Chapter 8 **

The spirit returned to Ryou, in the depths of night. He fully intended to force the boy out of bed, to escape this house of enemies for a time, re-strategise. He paused, however. In slumber, at peace, Ryou wandered through contended dreams now. His flesh, so alive and lurid to a being that sees without eyes, was captivating. Blood, the essence of life, flowing freely beneath the skin, the rapidly dividing cells quivering, a constant motion and light. Bakura lifted Ryou's hair in tendrils, let it fall slowly, one strand at a time. No bright sun here to jar him, to make it difficult for a spirit to think, to focus, to hold itself together. He easily gathered his invisible parts into a simple, transparent form. With one finger, he brushed a stray hair from Ryou's face. The sleeper sighed, and shifted, holding the blankets close to himself. Content. Bakura would let him sleep, at least for a little while.

The first rays of morning light crept into the Game Shop. The grey, pre-dawn haze that heralds the coming of the sun. Within this faint illumination, Ryou woke abruptly. It wasn't the minimal light that had forced this return to consciousness. Nor was it the clatter and caw of the birds that each vied for their place in the world through song. It was the hefty paperweight that fell on his face.

"Ah, what in the…!" He started to yell, when a hand firmly covered his mouth. A familiar face hovered over him, menacing, a threat of severe injury if Ryou didn't remain silent.

/Get up. Get out./

"Mhfrmmfng." Ryou mumbled through the ghostly hand that became more solid and substantial the longer he looked at Bakura.

/I don't have time for your protests./ The ring glowed with a golden radiance, and Ryou found himself abruptly trapped behind a door. His soul room. He threw himself at the door, pounding on it. Useless. He'd learned that some time ago, when the room was shifting, indistinct. When he'd been lost in here, unable to take hold of anything solid or seemingly real. He'd had more time in this place since then, time to make it his own. Today, however, the dancing lights that hovered in the cool night air failed to distract him. The Oak, bowl filled with soft grass, branches thick and long and leaves of mint green brushing the ceiling, failed to relax his troubled mind. Ryou slid to the floor, resting with his forehead pressed to the door's cool, neutral surface.

Ryou's body, meanwhile, slid out of bed with the stealth of a hunted cat. Black pyjama bottoms, dug out of a bottom drawer long forgotten at the Mouto residence, and no top. The weather was warm, a detail for which Bakura was grateful, as he dropped from the window to a ledge, then from that ledge to the ground. The soft soles of Ryou's bare feet earned a sigh from the tomb robber. Truly pathetic. Simple pavement strewn with pebbles was a source of pain. He gritted his teeth against the mild annoyance, and shifted through shadows, never visible in the light. He was practiced in the art of remaining unseen, undiscovered. He was, therefore, understandably stunned in a narrow back alley very near the Game Shop, when a tall, bald black man in a old-fashioned suit blocked his path. The man looked different through Ryou's eyes, but the spirit recognised him. He swore under his breath when the man nodded silently to him. He turned to flee the other way. A second man stood to cut off the retreat, a shorter, more heavily built individual. Brown hair in a short casual disarray, mouth set with determination, there was little likelihood of passing him without confrontation. Bakura cursed again, more colourfully this time. He had nothing that even resembled a weapon in his possession. Fine, diplomacy then. He relaxed his stance, though he remained alert, at the ready.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" The possessed body asked pleasantly. The darkness and malevolence of his nature coloured his words, however, making them mocking, brutal, cold.

"I suppose it would be too much to hope for, to ask you to leave this boy, and trouble him no more, wouldn't it." The dark skinned man replied.

"Yes, it would." Bakura sneered.

"There must be a reasonable reason why you've cornered me in this alley. If its vengeance you want, for your insufferable nuisance of a friend, you are welcome to try. I do not possess your book, not at the moment at any rate. If you simply wanted to chat, I regret to inform you that I am in a bit of a hurry. The police, you see, should be figuring out who Yugi is at any moment, and will no doubt want to question him." Bakura frowned, while his eyes darted about, searching for some escape. He knew these men would be formidable foes, despite their manner. It his own former body, he could have defeated them easily. As he was, however… He might still win, but not fast enough.

"We want to help you."

Bakura blinked, confused. His glare hardened. "No, you want to help him. Its what your friend wanted as well. Weaken me, drive me away, don't you see, he is mine! Mine until I no longer need him."

"Which is when?" Mark cut in, genuinely curious. This spirit was unusual, to say the least.

"Perhaps never, if I do not regain that book." Bakura replied curtly. "However, if you aid me in its recovery, perhaps we could work out a deal."

Police sirens wailed in the distance, and were abruptly cut off. Someone broke their stealthy approach. Bakura tensed, settling into a crouch. The time for talking was coming to an end.

"Come with us. We will keep you from the authorities, if only to protect your innocent host from an undeserved punishment." Andrew pleaded, knowing this was his last chance.

Bakura regarded them suspiciously. "If you betray me, the fate of your ally will be nothing compared to your own."

Bakura released Ryou, his consciousness hovering about, watching, at the ready. Unprepared, Ryou collapsed, smashing his nose into the concrete. Blood began to flow. Eager, Bakura took this blood into himself, feeding and intensifying the craving all spirits feel, once exposed to it. The blood feeds the power, the Mayans knew that more than any. Feed their spirit gods blood, to please them and make them stronger, so that the floods might be driven away, or the rains called.

Mark rushed forward, to help Ryou to his feet. "Don't be alarmed, we are friends, we won't harm you." The soothing things one says, when dealing with a disoriented individual newly freed from a possession, with no clue where they are or who they are with.

"What, where am I? Who are you?" Ryou stammered, wincing when his tender feet shifted on the rough ground.

"Talamasca. We want to help you. My name is Mark, this is Andrew."

Ryou let out a low moan. "Go away. Please. He'll kill you, you know."

"We have his… permission. To aid you, I mean. Our goals and his agree with one another on one score; you do not deserve a prison sentence for what he did." Andrew re-assured.

"Wait, Talamasca… So, did you know…" Ryou asked tentatively.

"Gregory? Yes, he was a colleague, and dear friend. We understand that you were not responsible for his death, however."

"I could have stopped it… If I had told Yugi and Yami, If I hadn't been so selfish…" Ryou shook his head dejectedly. Mark helped him walk, and they made their way to a limousine that was parked behind a drug store. When they were seated, Mark looked to Ryou questioning.

"I'm curious, how could your friend Yugi have helped you with an angry spirit? And who is this Yami?"

Ryou, trusting these people in an almost uncanny way, launched into an explanation, about the millennium items, the duels, the possession of not only himself, but also his closest (yet not very close) friend. It was a relief to speak of this openly to someone who didn't know, to someone on the outside. The burden lifted from his soul, and as he spoke into the rapt silence, as the limousine slid anonymously through the orange of dawn, he had a thought.

'I am not alone in this anymore.'

He said it aloud, and the two with him smiled.

* * *

Yugi slept soundly. He dreamed of victories, duels, friends, life. A knock at the door merged with his dream, became Joey running up stairs, step step, thunk thunk… "Police, open the door!"

Yugi leaped out of bed, the knocking very real. He ran to the door as fast as his legs would carry him; doors are expensive, after all.

He unlocked the door and opened it, finding himself facing a uniformed stomach. Being short sucks.

"Can I help you, Officer?" Yugi asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.

"You are Yugi Mouto?" The officer asked, all business.

"Yes, I am. What is this about?"

"Do you know and individual by the name Ryou Bakura?"

Yugi hesitated. Should he tell the officer Ryou was upstairs? His eyes flicked to the staircase, back to the door.

"I… know him. Why?"

"He is a suspect in a criminal investigation. If he is here, I strongly recommend you tell me. I have a warrant to conduct a search of the premises, though your co-operation would be preferable."

"You can't! Grandpa is sleeping, his health is fragile, you really don't want to…"

"Have it your way." The officer said with finality, pushing Yugi aside. Three others followed him in. Yugi could see a few more uniforms around the perimeter of the store.

/Do you believe me now, Yugi? The spirit of the ring killed that man. I am certain of it./

/But why? He had no reason./

/We don't know that, Yugi. We don't know anything about him. For all you know, he was Bakura's other arch-nemesis./

"Clear!" Someone cried from upstairs.

"Clear!" someone outside called.

An officer came back downstairs, Yugi's grandfather in tow. The old man was glaring at the man defiantly. "No right, that's what I told you, coming into my house at the crack of dawn, I should call the police."

The uniformed man barely his a smile. "We are the police."

"Then I'll call the other ones. There must be more of you, eh? Well, perhaps not. Crime these days…" Yugi's grandfather continued to mumble.

"Do you have any idea where Ryou Bakura is?" A man, his nametag proclaiming him "Steven" asked Yugi.

"No." Yugi replied honestly. Ryou wasn't upstairs?

Steven frowned.

"Will you agree to come to the station with us? It will be a bit of a drive, I'm afraid. The local one is… undergoing repairs."

"I have a choice?" Yugi asked, confused.

"No, not really. I'm just being polite." Steven shrugged.

"Ok, I'm coming." Pyjamas and all, Yugi climbed into the back of a squad car. He enjoyed the ride, at least. He'd never been in a police car before.

* * *

K. so yeah. Still no mention of fun museum burglaries. And what could Bakura possibly be trying to accomplish? Will Yugi FINALLY be convinced that Bakura is not only back, but able to kill? Reviewing is funn, it makes puppies happy. Or was that authors? Ah well, puppies, authors... same thing. Sortanotreallyatall


	9. Chapter 9

Lines are connecting, converging, what will happen?

Reviewers, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. You are the motivation that keeps the chapters coming!

**SkaleFlapper15** Oh, I'm so sorry, it turns out you did, but fan fiction decided to not forward the review to my hotmail. And answer; he doesn't wear pyjamas. OH THE HORROR!

**Affy-Bakura **Yeah, he wastes no time with the injuries. And I was thinking the same thing when I was naming the cop. I just got tiered of writing "Officer" and all I could hear was Abridged Malik's voice saying "Steeeeeve", sooo that was his name.

**Squid **'preciate it! Yeah, the lingering dead can't help but be attracted to life, and the living. Its like a moth's love of flame.

**Ani **I've been trying to keep myself from making it… citrus. So very tempted at times. Particularly after Blackwood Farm reading. We'll see where my fancy takes me. Perhaps no head bonking, but a few reality checks, perhaps.

**TalTal19** I like making old people silly. Otherwise, they depress me. Read on, that's all I can say to the rest.

**Earthquake **I shall join you in happy dance! Every one of you deserves an e-cookie. Though apparently it was four ppl, and fan fiction just doesn't want to let my ego grow out of control. So they neglected to tell me. Anyway, moving right along… He can't stay clueless much longer, he's not stupid, just… trusting. Bakura can't help but care for Ryou, it's a compulsion, in a way. And really, Yugi punching someone? Even in the violent manga, he just gets hit a lot.

That should be everyone (Unless Fanfiction decides to "Help" me again by not telling me about reviews… sigh….)

* * *

**_Chapter 9_**

"News five at six. Tonight, our top story, still no arrests on the Cadaver Carver. Police are following leads. Museum scandal; how did an entire exhibit go missing? Why? Tidal wave threat; will it hit Japan? All that and more, after the break."

A television screen went black. Mark lay back on his hotel bed, setting down the remote. Andrew paced the floor, while Ryou sat at the end of the bed, watching Andrew.

"This is all… very unusual. I wonder if this realm of shadows is a separate existence, or perhaps simply an in-between world… And all that you've said of these Items… We've heard of spirits attaching to objects before, an emerald necklace, for example, but never before has one been so bound, unless one believes the File of the Servant of the Bones…" Andrew mumbled as he paced, digesting Ryou's story.

"We can offer you refuge in our motherhouse if you would consent, our order had done this for the persecuted for hundreds of years. We saved many from the witch burnings that once spread through Europe."

"Where is this motherhouse?" Ryou asked, cautious, though if the police were looking for him, further away might be better.

"We have one in Amsterdam, Rome, London, and New Orleans, among other places." Mark supplied from his relaxed position, running a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was.

"Hey, Andrew, don't you think we should talk with this Yugi? I mean, if he's dealing with the same issues…"

"Not the same." Ryou interrupted. "There are distinct… personality differences. Mine has also changed himself, with your book."

"Ah, yes, the book. That reminds me, we still need to recover that. So it is agreed? Before we leave for London, we must approach this Yugi, and recover our book." Andrew stated with finality, leaving the other two somewhat confused. Ryou particularly.

/When did I actually agree to go? How did Yugi get involved? Can't we just leave the book where it is?/ Ryou thought, perplexed.

/Go along with them, Landlord. For now, they work in our favour./ Bakura said to him, a message without sound or direction.

"You stay right here, Ryou. We have this under control." Mark said confidently, leaping to his feet. He reminded Ryou of Joey, for a brief moment.

* * *

"I already told you, I don't know where he is. Why do you wan to question him so badly? I mean, yeah, he lives in that building, but I really don't think he heard anything! If he had, he'd have told you himself." Yugi crossed his arms stubbornly, glaring across the hard metal table at the area's leading homicide investigator. He could never be faulted for lack of loyalty, at least.

"I don't think you understand the situation, young man. Now, I'm going to tell you something the press isn't aware of. Your friend, this Bakura, wasn't just living in the same building as the suspected murder site. He was living in the same apartment. The same room, Yugi. It was bleached clean, I mean floor to ceiling bleach, but we found stains on the flooring under the carpet. I'm sure you understand the urgency of our search for him. Now I'm going to ask you again. Do you have any idea where he might be, or have been?" The man pressed his lips together, leaned forward.

Yugi, stunned, stared wide-eyed at the investigator. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if to say something, though the words were beyond his reach. He felt a crushing disappointment, a betrayal. Ryou had lied to him! The murder wasn't the issue, after all, it wasn't Ryou who had… But if he'd just told them, it might have been avoided! Still, the authorities wouldn't understand a possessing thief king spirit, and would assume Ryou was lying, or even insane. Yugi thought quickly. He had to find Ryou, and that meant he had to get out of here.

"I told you, I don't know anything. Can I go? My Grandfather's at the hospital again. He broke his toe, thanks to you people." Yugi got up determinedly, grabbed his blue jacket, and made for the door.

"We can't legally hold you, but I want you to keep what I've told you secret. If it got out, we would loose a valuable edge. If he approaches you, don't do anything stupid. Try to convince him to turn himself in. For his own good, you understand." The cop rose as well, offering a hand to shake. Yugi ignored it. "I understand." He said, as he walked out the door. Outside, the sun shone brightly. He blinked, waited for his eyes to adjust. Now, where to look for Ryou? It was a shame only the Ring was capable of tracking the other millennium items. Hey, was that him across the street? White, long hair, thin, pale; it certainly looked like him. Yugi ran across the street, looked around in confusion. Where did he go? A block away, Yugi spotted him again. How did he get so far so fast? Ryou waved casually, smiled, and turned down a side street. Yugi took off after him. Around the bend, he was… where? About to get on that bus! Very obviously Ryou, looking over his shoulder, right at Yugi, before getting on. Determined, Yugi managed to just make it before the bus closed its doors. The driver stopped him. Pointed at the change box.

"Oh, um, there." Yugi stuffed a random amount of change in. The driver, satisfied, shifted the gears and stepped on the gas, not bothering to wait for Yugi to be seated.

Yugi scanned the bus, looking for an obvious profusion of white hair. He didn't see it. He walked the entire length of the bus. Ryou wasn't on it. No one even had white hair. He turned to a rough looking chick at the back, with he lip, nose, and tongue pierced, an abstract tattoo with sharp edges winding up her neck and over her left cheek. Her hair was bright green, bright pink, bright blue, and very short.

"Um, excuse me, did anyone leave by this back exit? A guy, my age, long white hair?" Yugi asked tentatively.

The girl popped a bubblegum loudly. "Nope."

"Y-you're sure?"

"Yep."

"Thank you."

"No problem." She turned to stare out the window. Just another soul, really, trying to find themselves in a world that can be meaningless. Yugi sat beside her.

"Cool hair." She commented lazily, still looking out through the grime, clearly seeing something different, something beyond the concrete and glass.

She shifted in her seat, looking at Yugi with a sudden intensity. Her face, so alone a moment before, breaks out into a true smile. "Hey, you duel, don't you? I've seen you on the TV. You're the best."

Yugi returned the smile. "So they say."

She stuck out one hand, painted nails in black and orange, spiked leather bracelet, all just a part of who she was trying to be. How she identified herself. "Name's Charlotte."

"Yugi." He said, and shook her hand. Something odd, in the way her eyes flashed when she looked at him, the way she smiled. Yugi spoke with her about duelling, how it felt to win a big tournament, how he'd given the duellist kingdom money to his best friend; among other things. He lost track of time completely, so it came as a shock when he saw Ryou again, outside the window, standing on the street.

"Sorry Gotta go Bye!" He said quickly, leaping up and taking the stop. Charlotte's eyes narrowed. She saw what Yugi didn't, when she turned her eyes outside, as she had before she'd been so pleasantly distracted from her life. She saw the white haired guy Yugi had described. She saw him shift, look no longer sweet and innocent, but cold and calculating and… well, evil. Then, she saw something that truly scared her. She saw him disappear. Her heart pounded in her chest, the tiny hairs that cover the human body stood straight up, and a chill raced through her. No doubt this time. She'd seen it.

* * *

The real Ryou sat obediently in the hotel room, switching the TV on again on occasion, ordering room service to be left at the door, and worrying. He took a few pain pills for his face, hand, leg, etc.

What if everything went wrong? He didn't even want to think about it. A knock at the door distracted him from his worries. Room service again? He already had his food…

The knock came again, along with a tentative call. "Ryou?"

He jumped to his feet, ran to the door, and wrenched it open. "Yugi? What are you doing here?"

Yugi looked confused. "I followed you. Weird trick with the bus, how did you do that?"

"Bus?"

* * *

The police department was swarming with repairmen and electricians. Simple, especially for people like Andrew and Mark, to get a book from the evidence room. Mark had only to touch they keypad to know the code, and anyone who grew suspicious of them suddenly remembered somewhere they absolutely had to be at that moment. They walked out through the front door with the volume. Andrew felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He looked around, uneasy.

/Don't worry about finding Yugi./ The spirits voice echoed in his mind.

"Why is that? What have you done?" Andrew's eyes narrowed.

Laughter. /You'll see./

"We should return to our room. Quickly." Andrew stated.

* * *

Ohoh, ze cliffhanger, she appears! Quickly, make rope out of liquorice! It is ze only way!

So, Is Charlotte a random character, or will she appear again? Will Ryou go to London? Will Yugi go with him? What exhibit is missing? Do I want a popsicle? … find out next time!


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry, this would have been out sooner; but the weather's been just balmy, and I just hatched seven new baby lizards. Yaaay mommy bearded dragon!

Thx muchly to the reviewing pplz! I is very tiered. You motivate me to keep going, and to keep improving. All others are faceless to me… *sigh* though I appreciate readers, don't get me wrong! Man, sleepy, should really stop digging this pit deeper.

**BakushippingxForever** Thanks, And here is update!

**Ani **'s not like he has anything to really worry about. The police see him, he vanishes. Ryou's just so… controllable. At least, in this interpretation of character. Cliffy fairy smites you! I didn't have any either.

**Earthluva** yeah, if I press "space" after your name, my comp auto spell corrects it. To earthquake. And I did it, the midriff made me. For my middle name is Steve! (not really). She is very happy with her hair. And where was that popsicle today, I ask you?

**Affy-Bakura **No, no Mary-Charlotte-Sue! I must save her! And yes, Ryou is British. I thought I mentioned the accent a while back, but perhaps I forgot. Read on for all stolen items questions. And day brightening is a pleasure, I'm gad I could help. Oh, and I did want one, but alas, I had none.

**SkaleFlapper15 **What? He sleeps in his day-clothes, of course. And read on for that.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The room was ready. He'd worked so hard; it isn't easy, to move large objects with the mere force of one's will. Without the Shadow Realm, he couldn't have done it. At long last, the power and freedom he'd lusted for was within his grasp. It could have been so much harder, he knew that. Once, long ago, it would have been easy to find a setup such as this; hidden underground, below temples. In this era, he'd been fortunate. A local museum had unearthed one of the ancient circles. The whole thing was already arranged. He just had to move it; one piece at a time.

All of this; the book, the change, had been set in motion by the image of that display on the news. The potential, infinite possibility, became kinetic. If he combined the old rituals with Shadow Magic, who knew how much power he could attain?

He didn't want a body; the flesh could only be a weakness to him. Hold him back. In truth, he wanted more. He would become a God. Not the foolish Christian version, no, he would emulate the Gods of the ancients, created by man to serve man, to make the crops grow and control the people. He, however, would be free.

Bakura took his own form to better survey the site with near real eyes. Yes, all in place. A great stone circle, with a raised lip and many groves and lines carved into intricate patterns. Four raised flat areas at to four corners of the compass, each with a groove that fed into the channels of stone. At the centre, a golden disk, the size of a medallion. Here, all lines converged. Five places for torches, to represent fire and light the ritual. A shallow pool, circling the ritual site like a moat, brought the element of water to the equation. Air there was in plenty. Earth in stone. And Spirit… Spirit was note yet here. Spirit would be present in its purest form, short of Bakura himself. The essence of life, and the living, would drip from the altars four, fill the labyrinth of channels, and soak the medallion. That much blood would require certain… sacrifices. Not his Ryou, of course. He would be needed at the centre, to speak the words and direct the power, under Bakura's instruction. That would be the tricky part. His light would never agree. Certain… persuasion would be required.

Filled with a burning ambition, image of blood on gold, Bakura burst apart in a whirlwind of intent. The board is set. Now, he only needed the pieces.

* * *

"So, he brought you here? I wonder why he's being so… co-operative? It is most unlike him." Ryou said, gesturing for Yugi to enter.

Yugi raised an eyebrow, as he walked in and sat on the edge of the bed, where Ryou had so recently been. "Ryou, what's going on? Why did you lie to us? Why are you here, and why did… he… kill that man?"

Ryou sighed. "A lot has been happening, Yugi. I don't know even where to begin."

Yugi shrugged. "How about at the start?"

Ryou nodded. He thought for a moment, organising his thoughts. "I'm not quite sure how it all started. He began giving me strange instructions, telling me to fetch this or that, then I started to loose long periods of time from my memory. I don't remember drawing the symbols on my table, or where that rat came from, for example. I lost the longest bit then, and that was when the book showed up. I have no idea where I went, but I think, no, I know he stole it from an occult historian organization called the Talamasca."

Ryou continued, telling Yugi the other side of each strange encounter, the Englishman Gregory and his death, Andrew and Mark, up to the present issue.

"And they want to talk to you about Yami. I'm not sure if they simply want to understand, and hear your story, or if they want to know if he is as malevolent as Other Me. Either way, they want to ask you to go to London with us. They've promised to help me with my… Situation, and if you were there, perhaps we could actually beat him, with Yami's power and the Talamasca's knowledge. "

Yugi looked down, disturbed an thoughtful. He hadn't interrupted Ryou once, and now appeared to be having a fierce internal debate. "Ryou, the other me wants to talk to you. Is that ok?"

Ryou nodded nervously. One would think he was used to speaking with ancient Egyptian spirits, but really, is that something a person can ever actually become accustomed to?

Yugi's puzzle glowed distinctly. It wasn't Yugi that sat before him now, that much was obvious. This being was taller, leaner, with a hard, pointed stare and angular features. His voice, when he spoke, was far deeper. 'How did people not notice this sort of thing?' Ryou pondered.

"I don't like this." The pharaoh frowned. Straight to the point, as if continuing a conversation with Yugi. "Any of this. There is something else going on. This is the crucial thing we must understand. He would not have brought me here, if he even suspected we might try to destroy or banish him. As you said, he is being far to co-operative. There is a different game being played here, and we don't know any of the rules, the objectives, or the stakes. It is like we are the pieces, and another is making the moves; all we see are the parts as they slide across the board. What we must do is discover the rules, and start to make moves of our own."

Yami began to drill Ryou on all the details, large or small, anything that might give some glimmer of the bigger picture.

* * *

Charlotte leaned against a wall behind the hotel, in an ally where they dump the trash from the kitchen. Anything to avoid going home, and besides, she was curious. She'd seen things like that phantom before, but nothing so certain, so strong. Danger. That was the feeling she got from it. Danger for that kid on the bus. She'd gotten off at the next stop, and walked back. Not a bad neighbourhood for walking, not like back home. She carried a knife, the kind that folds into its handle, in her pocket at all times, and she'd used it. "Crazy Bitch!" The guy had screamed, as blood leaked out between his fingers. Got what he deserved, after what he'd tried to do.

She blinked, shook her head. Not the time. Now was the time for waiting for something, anything to happen. The perfect time to open her mind, let her guard down, invite something to happen. He was here. She knew he was. The pale one, the one filled with hate and need. She called to him, with her silent voice. And he came. She felt him in the air around her, strong, so strong. He shimmered into her vision, becoming so very real. But not real. She could tell that much.

"Who are you?" Charlotte asked the silent figure.

"Do not call me. You have no claim on me. This is a warning. Do it again, and I will kill you." The apparition's mouth didn't move, but she heard its words. Incredible. Magic. Never before like this.

"But what do you want? Will you hurt him?" She implored. Yes, speak again. Speak so I can hear it.

"I told you, I…" The spirit paused. It narrowed its eyes, as if truly seeing her for the first time.

"The four…" He smiled, just the smallest of smirks, more threatening sometimes than a true maniacal grin. "Perhaps… perhaps we could work together. I could use you, now that I think of it. If you wish to save the boy you saw, come to me, tomorrow at midnight, I will guide you there. No one need be hurt, if only you come. If fear drives you back, or logic clouds you, blood will flow, that I promise."

The spirit laughed, dispersing, his cold laughter hanging in the air after he'd gone.

Charlotte shivered in the warmth. She wasn't crazy. She knew that now. The kid had seen him too.

What would happen tomorrow night was a mystery to her, but she was utterly certain of one thing. She would be there.

Invisible and hovering, Bakura positively hummed with satisfaction. Everything was coming together.

* * *

Andrew sipped coffee in the comfort of their limousine, compliments of the Talamasca. Mark watched him, exhausted.

"Please tell me we get a good night's sleep tonight? If we have to catch a plane later, I might pass right out in the ticket line. I've had this great hotel bed sitting there un-slept in, and really, it's a waste." Mark complained.

"You do know how disgusting those beds can be, do you not? Have you ever pointed a blacklight at one?" Andrew said calmly, the dark circles under his eyes betraying his own exhaustion.

"At this point, I just don't care, man." Mark groaned, sliding into a slouch in the seat.

"I would personally rather we left sooner, but if you insist, I suppose we could postpone our departure." Andrew said thoughtfully, checking his watch for no real reason.

The great black car slowed to a stop before the hotel, chauffeur opening the door for the two exhausted men. Andrew brought the book, cradled carefully in his arms. Through the shining, gilded lobby of marble, up the sleek modern elevators, to their familiar hallway carpeted with rich patterns of triangles and squares, wallpaper red and gold, to the door to one of the rooms they had booked. The one they'd left Ryou in. Neither were much surprised to see Yugi and Ryou laying on their stomach's on the bed, eyes glued to the television. Some foolish show about funny home movies. Both of them were laughing.

Andrew smiled in a bemused sort of way. In adversity, the mind runs to a happy, safe place.

Yugi's eyes turned to the men at the door, immediately serious. "That them?"

Ryou looked over, unconcerned. "Yes." He looked back at the screen.

Yugi smiled at them, however. "I'm Yugi. Ryou's invisible evil spirit stalker invited me over. You wanted to talk to me?"

Mark laughed outright. "Nyeh, it think it can wait until morning. I'm bushed, and Ryou…"

Ryou had slid forward onto his face, his breath rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep, his hair hanging off the end of the bed in a white sheet.

"Yugi, you are welcome to stay here tonight." Andrew offered. "That way, if the police think up some new reason to hold you, they won't know where you are."

Yugi nodded agreeably. His grandfather was really in the hospital, but that happened all the time, and the old man was usually quite content on his own. Besides Yugi wanted good night's sleep; somehow, he felt he'd need it tomorrow.

* * *

Sorry if I got a little… off near the end, my eyes just do not want to stay open. Sleep, it seems, must overcome us all. Next chapter will be a grand wallop, the big one.

now to go back and write the top of the page.


	11. Chapter 11

This one is a wee bit longer. I enjoyed writing it very much. I hope you all enjoy reading it at least as much. So, I didn't quite get to the climactic moment, but we are most definitely getting there.

All reviewers get e-hugs! Like real hugs, but more digital. Yaaaay for motivating the author!

**BakushippingxForever **Oh, you'll see. Next chapter, hot off the press! Ok, no press, but still…

**Earthluva **I have a feeling you might like this one. 'nuff said.

**TalTal19 **I actually like Charlotte quite a lot too. It is difficult to make a convincing, yet strong female character. Everyone loves AFV every once in a while. Even if only to scoff at idiocy. You just wait, the diabolicalness (Huh, apparently, this is an actual word) gets thicker.

**Ani **Charlotte had a very special part to play. I made her character to fill this role, though its not one Bakura intends… And no, she's no-ones potential ex future soul mate millennium lover.

**Affy-Bakura **I knoes, theyr so adoreacute! He did fall asleep… temporarily. Read on, young grasshoppa.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Night once again. All sleep, while overhead, storm clouds gather.

Ryou groaned in his slumber, tossing, plagued by dreams of doom.

Bakura drifted, agitated. He was impatient, on edge, buzzing with energy. He could see, feel, these visions of nightmare as they flashed through Ryou's mind. Figments of shared memory, mingled and warped by the subconscious. Always, there were elements from the deep past that Bakura recognised easily.

Slowly, he slid over Ryou like a blanket. He touched Ryou's eyes, and through the contact, forced the dreams to change. A blackness spun, a swirl of dark that dissolved yet another horror scene. He showed Ryou the ritual site. In the dream, it was over. Yugi, Andrew, Mark, and a strange girl Ryou didn't know, were embracing him, Ryou, in divine acceptance. Blood on the stones, but that didn't matter now. What matters is the achievement, that Bakura, standing off in a corner of the dream-room, had been cleansed of evil and would be a friend, a companion to Ryou from that moment forth.

Pretty dream, Bakura thought. Pretty lie.

The jagged openings in Ryou's skin upset the spirit. He felt that Ryou should be perfect in this, Bakura's triumph, even if Ryou now had a warped view of what that would be.

Another experiment. He focused his will on the cuts and bruises in Ryou's pale flesh, most of which he had created. No matter. He willed the flesh to come together, to heat. The tiny parts that made up the spirit went to work, merging and nudging, repairing. When he was done, exhausted, Ryou was whole.

Bakura surveys his handiwork, running dozens of invisible fingers over Ryou's body. When one has no real form, the limits of body do not exist.

Ryou sighed in his sleep, goose-bumps rising on his skin.

Connected as they were through the ring, Bakura felt a lovely zinging sensation in response to his own actions. Intrigued, he continued, scratching like fingernails gently on the backs of the knees, the scalp, the insteps of the feet, and all simultaneously. Pleasure like electricity shot through the many intricate connections within the spirit's invisible form. The tendrils like fingers spread out, moving up the body and down, stroking the inner thighs… Ryou moaned, and suddenly, his eyes shot open.

"Bloody hell!" He shouted, scrambling out of bed. He stood with his back to a wall, breathing heavily in a state of pitched adrenaline, his body still tingling where the spirit had touched him.

"What in the blazes was that?" he demanded of the darkness, his eyes strained wide to see.

A sudden wrench, as an invisible fist took hold of his hair, yanked it hard, bringing tears to Ryou's eyes.

Bakura was, abruptly, right in front of him, far too close, his all too real fist tangled in Ryou's hair, still pulling.

"You defy me, Landlord?" The spirit smiled, a whim turning his teeth to fangs. The better to frighten.

"I… don't understand… why… what were you…" Ryou stammered, trying to avoid looking at the being standing inches from him. Perhaps if he shouted again, loudly enough, someone in another room would hear and…

"Try it." Bakura challenged coldly, having plucked the thought from Ryou's head.

"Do not disobey again." The spirit ran a long, pink tongue up Ryou's neck, and as a knock at the door sounded, he disappeared.

Ryou slid to the floor, a shivering puddle of goop, or so he felt. Chills raced over his skin. He had never felt so… wrong. Dirty… He needed a shower. A long one. But the knock came again.

"Ryou, you ok? I heard shouting…" Yugi's voice called tentatively, from an adjacent room.

Ryou lifted his head, looked at the door. Nope, leaving it closed. "I'm fine, just a nightmare. Goodnight, Yugi!"

The soft sound of feet padding away. Ryou rose to shower, but the thought of being naked made him pause. Sure, his pyjamas didn't make much difference, but still.

He eventually decided to try sleep again, he really was exhausted, and he'd been having the most wonderful dream before… He shuddered.

Ryou curled himself tightly in a cocoon of blankets, and despite distinct forebodings that he may never sleep again, he was soon unconscious.

Bakura, meanwhile, set about disabling all alarm clocks, and setting the time back by several hours.

* * *

Everyone slept long that night. Very long. They continued to sleep into the morning, right through part of the afternoon. Each time someone would wake, they would look at the clock, note the early hour, feel a sudden wave of fatigue, and go back to sleep. Finally, around one o'clock, Andrew glanced at his watch, rather than the bedside alarm. His language in this moment was colourful, and will thusly not be repeated here. He knew they had been duped, but why, he had no idea. He could imagine well _who_ was behind it. A loud rumble of thunder sounded, rolling over the hotel and on, as jagged streaks of lightning zigzagged across the sky.

Andrew sighed; there would be no flights leaving today. Rain pounded the window in sheets. It all seemed so perfect, too well timed. The delays were piling up. Uneasy, he rose. It was time they all woke, anyway. "Mark, get up. Its late."

Mark rolled over in the bed, glanced at the clock. " 's still early, five more minutes…"

"The clock is wrong. By eight hours. Trust me, its time we got out of bed." Andrew said tersely.

"Eight hours? How'd that happen?" Mark groaned, rolling out of bed, onto the floor, bringing the blankets with him.

"How do you think?" Andrew asked, tossing Mark a shirt, which he caught deftly, despite being half buried in bedclothes.

"I think our spirit friend didn't want us to leave." Mark said, as he buttoned his shirt.

"That was my conclusion as well. Pants, too, good fellow. They help on a day like today. Or any day, really." Andrew smiled with good humour. Mark had been on his way to the door in little more than a shirt.

Mark flushed, and mumbled "Yeah, maybe."

Once Mark had gotten all his clothes on the correct parts of his body, Andrew opened the door. Standing framed in it, hand raised to knock, was Ryou. He looked… decidedly dishevelled.

"Oh, the um, thunder, I couldn't sleep. I was wondering when we'd planned to go…" He looked anxiously over his shoulder.

"You look like you've barely slept at all!" Andrew said, with some suspicion.

"Yes, the… storm… kept me awake most of the night. I couldn't shut my eyes for more than a few minutes. I was really hoping we could just go." Ryou said wearily.

"In this? I don't think we'll be flying anywhere soon, buddy." Mark said. The sky gave a particularly loud crash just then, as if in answer.

"Your hand is better, I see. And the cut on your face." Andrew observed.

"Oh, is it? I hadn't noticed. Can we have breakfast? I'm starving." Ryou deflected.

"More like lunch. Its late." Mark informed Ryou.

"No, it isn't, my clock said it was nine." Ryou glanced back toward his room, confused.

"So did ours. But an independent watch said otherwise." Andrew said.

Ryou frowned. "Lunch then. I'm starving."

"Yes, we can have lunch. It would appear we are going nowhere, at least at present." Andrew led the way out the door.

"I'll get the other guy." Mark volunteered, taking a left toward Yugi's room. Andrew and Ryou disappeared from sight, as the elevator door whooshed to a close. Mark raised his hand to knock, but paused when he heard talking inside. Yugi was probably on the phone; it sounded like a one-sided conversation.

"This has nothing to do with him, it's the weather! I know, don't bring the I-Told-You-So-s into it, I was wrong before but… Clocks screw up all the time, I'm just glad my phone runs off the internet. The power went out, lighting, it must have re-set the clocks. Ok, I'll be careful. You'll be with me to shout warnings in my ear anyway. All day. Again." Yugi heaved a mock sigh of the long suffering.

Mark knocked. That didn't sound like a phone call. He did recall the boy's situation, perhaps today would be as good as any to get more details. Either way, he probably shouldn't be listening through doors. It was rude. Even if, on the other side of the door, someone was talking to an ancient spirit of an Egyptian pharaoh who… Ok, he would have to consult the Elders in regards to the morals of such a situation.

Yugi opened the door.

"Hey. I don't think we'll be flying anywhere today." Yugi observed.

"No, I agree with you there." Mark was struck by a sudden thought.

"Speaking of flying, you sure no one minds if you just up and leave for London? Parents? Friends? Teachers?"

Yugi smiled. "I left for a month for the Duellist Kingdom tournament. Trust me, its not a big deal. Besides, I don't really have parents. My Grandpa looks after me, and I look after him. He'll be alright, though. He likes the nurse that checks on him every day when I'm away. I don't think my teachers even notice when I'm gone. I've never really gone anywhere without my friends before, but I think they'll probably show up before long."

"Show up? In London?" Mark was skeptical.

"You don't know my friends. They've run headlong into a swirling vortex dome of evil darkness and terror after me. A flight with a few layovers is not an issue." Yugi shrugged.

Mark shook his head in wonder. If this little guy's been through half the things Ryou spoke of, and is still this cheerful bundle of pep, he's tougher than he looks. Then again, there's still… Mark caught himself staring at the puzzle.

Yugi's expression grew clouded, thoughtful. " He's not evil. Not like the spirit in Ryou's item. Yami's like a guardian to me, and a friend. I don't know what's happened to that evil one, but he shouldn't be able to do what he's doing. Yami's always been stronger, always beaten him, though its been close, very close. But now… Its like Bakura, and I don't mean the nice one, has moved into a different level entirely. He's not bound to the item anymore, but its more than that. Yami agrees with me. He's got a goal, we don't know what it is yet, but one thing you have to remember about him; he plays the game. And he's good. He's just playing a different game than us, now."

"I hate to burst your bubble, but this isn't a game. This is real life, life and death here." Mark said.

"There's a difference? My Yami says everything's a game. You just have to know the rules." Yugi smiled sweetly, but Mark saw something in Yugi at that moment. It wasn't the puzzle's ghost, no, it was… Yugi. Innocent, yes. Perhaps. But beneath that, he had a cunning mind. He knew the game, as it was. The innocence, it wasn't an act, not really, but it was a strategy. Yugi played to his strengths. Perhaps he and his other self were not so very different after all.

"Do you think Ryou's spirit protects him?" Mark asked.

"I doubt it. He seems to put Ryou into danger more than anything. Still, I think he cares more than he lets on."

* * *

Downstairs, Ryou walked with Andrew to the hotel's restaurant. He stopped in his tracks. Andrew walked on ahead for a minute, before he became aware that he was walking alone. He turned back, to see Ryou standing in the doorway. The spirit had him. His hair, his face, even his manner of standing was very different.

"Catch me if you can. Or if you can't, well, little Ryou pays the price." The spirit said quietly, yet the words carried. He turned, and dashed off into the rain. Andrew had no choice, he felt; he followed into the fierce wind, driving rain, and deafening thunder.

Bakura remained ahead, the distance between them remained fairly constant. A layer of mist clung to the ground, chased hither and thither by the eddies of the gale. Through this swirling fog born of the rain, with water running off his head into his eyes, splashing into countless puddles, Andrew ran. Each time the flash of white hair disappeared around a corner, he was sure he's lost them. Then he'd turn the same corner, and there they were, Spirit dragging Ryou along helplessly, always maddeningly close, yet too far away. When he was tiered, had to slow, the figure he chased slowed as well. Almost as if he's… leading me. Andrew thought. Then he had no time for thinking, he had to concentrate on where he was going. Traffic would have run him down if he'd paid any less attention to it.

Finally, Bakura slid sideways through the boarded up door of an old building. Old, looked vaguely military. Clearly abandoned, on an out of the way street, surrounded by storage buildings. Andrew followed with some difficulty, his instincts screaming "Trap" all the while. So far, so good. No sign of Bakura, though. Just a hallway. Leading to yet another hallway, and scores of small, office- like rooms.

Wait. There. At he end of the hall, a door swung shut. Then open, shut again. The only movement in the building. Worth a look.

Andrew approached the door cautiously, water dripping from his clothes to the floor. He took careful note of the rooms and halls on either side; the possessed young man could be hiding within any one of them. He made it to the end without incident, which unnerved him, rather than making him grow more confident. What on earth was this spirit planning? Andrew knew he was being very stupid. He should go back, get Mark, get the police, and Yugi; the only one who could do harm to the spirit without hurting the host. To go down this flight of stairs into blackness was nothing short of idiotic; And Andrew wasn't an idiot. However, to delay could mean this daemon, for lack of a better word, might hurt Ryou terribly. Not kill him; the spirit needed him too much. Images of damage done to Gregory, not post-mortem, flashed vividly through Andrew's mind. If he could even possibly save Ryou… it was worth it.

He walked through the door, down, down into the long dark, away from the feeble light coming in through the grimy windows.

He walked for a long time in darkness, trusting the steps to remain the same. If one was missing, he would undoubtedly miss it, and plummet the rest of the way to his death. Not at all desirable, he reflected. At long last, the stairs came to an abrupt end, when his face impacted a closed door. He stifled a shout, and slowly slid the door open. The sight that met his eyes was… unbelievable. A vast empty space, filled with darkness. He could see light, however, a circle of torches, flickering, illuminating a circle. He walked closer, curiosity taking over. He could see someone sitting at its centre. Someone with white hair.

"Bakura!" Andrew called, hurrying forward. He didn't notice Ryou's soft, innocent eyes, or the steel cuff around his ankle, until the last moment. The moment before an infisible force pressed a cloth to his face, a cloth that smelled strongly of…

Andrew fell to the floor, unconscious. Bakura let the chloroform soaked rag drift to the floor, beside the open bottle, for use later. He took the key to Ryou's ankle with him when he returned to his host, taking control once again. It had been easy to clasp his own ankle in irons, throw the key away from himself, then release Ryou and collect the key. Obtaining the chloroform had been a snap. Now he would use Ryou's somewhat meagre strength to move Andrew into position.

He unlocked himself, pocketed the key. It took considerable effort to drag the tall man to one of the four raised stones, lay his chest across it, facing downward. It was easier to push him until his head hung off the edge, over the stone circle with its many grooves. He then completed the final touches, slipping Andrew's hands into the iron half-shackles bolted directly to the block. Not comfortable in the least, but it would be a few hours before he could appreciate that fact. The flame's reflection flickered on the shining scalp, as the last of the rainwater dripped slowly to the floor.

"Now, to fetch the others." Bakura smiled. Finally, something was going his way. He locked Ryou into place again, and sped away.

* * *

Well, did we have fun? Pre-emptive answer; yes, Andrew and Mark were sharing a room. Choose to see that however you like.

Reviews are fun to give like apple pie, and I appreciate them more, 'cause pie does some funny things in the mail. The baby dragons want you to! (I really have to do something about this spell-correct. It changed "Wantyou" to "Antifoam")


	12. Chapter 12

So, its been a while. My excuse? No computer, no floor. New desk now, so I've got my comp set up, and I've got half a floor. Yaaay, half a floor. Stupid exploding water heater, grumble grumble.

Thank you so much, to those who reviewed my last chapter. Reading over the reviews got me my motivation back, so I could write this chapter you now see before you… If you're still there, and haven't decided that I'd been run over by and angry polar bear riding a moose and wearing a Mounty hat while waving a Canadian flag… and a beaver.

**Affy-Bakura **they sure are! And you think that was weird… toned down version of Lasher. My spell correct hates me. And you do not!

**Earthluva **Yes, for they are all powerful… lol, I had to include some allusions to Lasher, and trust me, I toned it down. A lot. And I thank you. Epically.

**Onsheka **Thank you so much, on all counts. I'm glad to hear you like my OCs, I'm always afraid of turning people away with too much OC ness.

**BakushippingxForever **I know, eh? I had to resist pushing it too far, what with the rating and all. By soon, you mean… eventually? Lol, anyway here it is.

**Ani **Yeah, I didn't want to go too sour, what with the rating and all, but there is space for imagination. It was a long night, we'll say. There will be more of the YamiYugi, despite certain developments in this chap.

**Apprentice Writer **Yes, Some people do indeed. I can certainly vouch for that. And thank you.

**SkaleFlapper15 **It sure was, get your mind out of the gutter! Never mind that I deliberately made it come across that way… *cough my bad cough* … did you review twice to one chapter? I was like O.o for a second while doing these. And yeah, Oh crap applies well to anyone but Bakura. MUAHAHAHAHAHA covers it better in his case, lol.

**Vampires-and-Wearwolves **I appreciate you letting me know! I'm glad I succeeded in making the characters true to themselves, and in making my own entertaining. All answers will come in time

Onward, to what you're all here to see! Duuum Dum Dum Dum DAAAAAAAAAA! The Chapter! *Flashing crazy lights and slowly rising platform with epic drumbeats*

* * *

Chapter 12

Yugi and Mark walked down the line of the buffet, grabbing food haphazardly.

"I don't see them, do you see them?" Yugi asked Mark, after a fifth scan of the dining room.

"No, I'm kinda worried. They came down ahead of us." Mark frowned at his soup, as if blaming it for his problems.

"Maybe they ate fast, figured something out, and had to go right away?" Yugi speculated.

"Doubt they ate that fast. We were only a few minutes behind them." Mark took his turn looking out over the tables, hoping he'd simply missed them. Unlikely; the huge pile of silver white hair sitting next to a black chrome dome were not hard to pick out of a crowd, and the place wasn't really crowded.

They sat down with their food, and a waiter came around to offer drinks. "Just a coffee. Very strong, very black. And hey, did you see a bald black guy and a pale guy with white hair in here?" Mark asked the waiter, while Yugi started picking through his food. His Grandpa always told him he ate like a bird.

"No, I can't say I… then again, I did see a man by the first description run out into the rain after someone with white hair. Honestly, I thought the pale person was the dark one's girlfriend."

Mark looked worried. "Did either of them seem… upset? Afraid?"

"Well, I thought they were fighting. The black guy did appear upset as he left, almost frantic."

"You noticed that, and you still thought Ryou was a girl?" Yugi asked incredulously.

Mark smiled. "Sorry, but your friend does look kinda… girl-ish."

"We have to go after them!" Yugi proclaimed, leaping up from the table.

"I know. I think I can follow them. I hope Andrew thought of this." Mark said as he pushed his own chair back, looked longingly at his plate, and shoved a dinner roll in his mouth. Both of them walked to the door, and looked out into the gale.

"We have to find them in that?" Yugi asked doubtfully.

Mark swallowed forcefully. "Yep. I think I should be able to, though."

He took off an ever-present glove, and laid his hand on the door handle. "Just Andrew." he muttered. His eyes lit up.

"Yup, he definitely came through here, and he was worried. Running. Maybe you should wait here, I want to find him fast, and you're legs are… um… their short. Stubby, even" He finished bluntly.

"You should have help. What if my legs were longer?" Yugi asked quite seriously.

"If you can manage that in the next three sec…onds… Ok, how the F*** did you do that?" Mark asked the now taller, though still a bit short, Yugi.

"Irrelevant. Lets find Bakura." Yami said, in a voice distinctly lower than before.

Mark nodded, and they both ran into the rain, Mark following a phantom only he could see. He renewed his vision by touching corners, silently thanking Andrew for remembering to leave a trail.

The rain poured down, and the thunder crashed. Yami was thankful; he'd always felt stronger when it rained. Mark, however, cursed the weather with every drop that obscured his vision. A car drove past through a puddle, soaking them both more thoroughly. Buildings loomed in their sight, and faded away, mere ghosts of their formal selves, lost in a haze of irrelevance. Neither noticed where they were going, knowing only that they must get there quickly. At last, Mark skidded to a stop. Yami ran headlong into him, and both went down, floundering in a deep puddle for a moment, pushing at each other, trying to get up.

"Why did you stop?" Yami demanded, nursing an injured pride.

"We're here." Mark replied, nodding to the boarded up husk of a building they had fallen in front of. Mark touched the planks over the door, and saw a glimmer of Bakura, then Andrew, slipping through. Mark wouldn't fit, he could see that much.

"You go. I'll try to rip these boards off." He said to Yami.

Yami nodded. "I will deal with Bakura. We have fought before, he and I."

Mark frowned. "I'll try to hurry."

The two shook hands, and Yami slid into the blackness for which he was named. Mark began the labour of pulling and ripping at thick beams excessively nailed to the wall.

* * *

"Dad, You're drunk, You've always been drunk, and you'll die drunk! Shut up and leave me alone!" Charlotte screamed, slamming her bedroom door shut. Fat lot of good that did; her old man had broken the doorframe months ago, hammering on it like he did.

As expected, he barged in, lower lip trembling with rage. "You'd never have.. When your mother was alive, you'd never, I got respect, damnit!"

"It was you and your poison that killed mom, don't you dare talk of her to me, you got her drinking, it was you, and don't think I don't know it!" She screamed back in his face. Painful memories, mom on the bathroom floor, don't think of it, blood on her head, blood on the bathtub rim, fell, but his fault, all his fault… remember the wine bottle roll across the floor, red poison mixing with mother's blood, already full of the stuff anyway…

His face flushed almost purple, and she stared back at him, cold eyes meeting his wet drooping ones. Hit me again, you bastard. Just try it.

He was going to do it, raising his hand to her, YOU DARE! She screamed within herself. She saw the color red, the rage swept through her, twisted inside her, struck him in all his tiny parts that make up his complex whole. Wild elation as his face drained of color. Joy when the blood ran in single dripping lines out of one nostril, out of his ear, the corners of his eyes. Satisfaction as he hits the floor.

The rage drains from her, as the reality of her circumstance sinks in. Can't have killed him, not possible.

Charlotte presses two fingers to his neck, feels for the beat of life that will undo this. Nothing. Stone cold dead daddy. Well, now what? Call an ambulance? No one will know she did it. After all, she didn't, she can't have. She hadn't touched him. He'd just died there, probably a stroke, probably from the drink. Just a coincidence that they were fighting, or maybe his anger set it off. Never mind that she knew it was her.

In this monumental moment, this turning point in her life, the other thing, the thing she'd been thinking about off and on all day, finally happened. It was the pale one, with white hair, standing in the corner of her room.

"Impressive" He said to her, his lips unmoving.

She looked at her father, tried to feel some sadness, some regret. She couldn't. He'd deserved it.

"You will help me? Help the innocent one?" The spirit asked her.

"What do you need me to do?" Charlotte asked coldly, never looking from her father. Daddy dearest.

Into her mind, a map, a feeling of direction, paths down city streets revealed to her, leading to an abandoned building in a bad part of town. Military, without doubt.

"Go there." The spirit said to her, dissolving his visible form, and to her he became as heat rising from pavement, a vague shimmer in the air, as he drifted away with intent.

Charlotte didn't miss a beat, and she didn't waste a tear over the corpse on the floor. His body filled the doorway, so she stepped on his back on the way out. Close the front door, lock it, snap, and she was on her way. It wasn't so far, after all.

* * *

Yami moved through the darkness with ease, his steps drowned out by the panting and tearing of wood coming from the doorway. There was still a faint trail of water on the floor, some puddles matching the shape of shoeprints. This was definitely the place. Yami followed the trail to a staircase, dangerously steep, that plunged deep into the earth. Familiar; so many temples set up this way.

In silence he made his way down, no idea what he would find at the bottom. It seemed an eternity. Faintly, he could hear steps far above him. Mark had likely gotten in. Good. Yami increased his pace; pride demanded that he confront Bakura alone. He came out of a dark passage at the end of the stairs, into a vast space. In the distance, he could see a circle well lit. A fission of memory passed through him; secret knowledge of the past. He tried to delve deeper into the knowledge, but failed. Senses on high alert, he looked for any sign of Bakura. As he drew closer to the torchlight circle, he saw someone with white hair at its centre. There he is.

Yami drew himself up to his most regal, walking forward with confidence to challenge a foe he had many times defeated. Something now quite right tugged at him, but he foolishly ignored it. The brilliant strategist forgot a key lesson. Never think you know exactly what your enemy is doing.

It wasn't until he was closer that he saw the problem. The white haired person at the core of the circle was chained. He was looking at Yamit with wide, innocent eyes, and he was shaking his head fiercely in negation. Near him, on one of the stone platforms that surrounded the circle, Andrew stared groggily, also heavily chained.

Yami came to a full stop. "Bakura, where are you? I challenge you to a duel! On your honour, you must face me!"

A cold whisper sounded in his ear. "Pharaoh, when will you learn? I have no honour."

A fabric pressed itself over Yami's mouth and nose, just as he gasped in shock. The body he inhabited swooned, the darkness was closing over the circle of light, swallowing it. Yami found himself in the puzzle, his soul room. Yugi was at the door.

"What's going on?" Yugi demanded.

"I have no idea. He used some sort of poison. We are helpless." Yami said as he let Yugi in, rage and frustration evident in his tone. Mind shuffle is no use when it is the body that won't work.

"It isn't you're fault." Yugi assured.

Yami shook his head in negation. Yugi was wrong.

* * *

Mark, storming down the stairs moments later, met the same fate as the other two before him. Now, only one remained. Yami, Mark, Andrew, all in their places, and held there. Only Andrew yet awake, pleading in his oh-so-reasonable manner to be set free.

Charlotte wound her way through the city streets, following a map in her head, soon to slip into the spider's web.

* * *

Shorter than I'd planned, but I wanted to get it out. I keep thinking the next one with be the climactic scene, but then there's always so much more rising action that needs to be in place first…

Until next time; I bid thee Aideu. *Rides off into the sunset on a moose holding a Canadian flag*


	13. Chapter 13

This may very well be the last chapter. Let me know if you want a prologue, an aftermath, and I will surely oblige. I based some of this on The Queen Of the Damned, but really, it exists in the same fictional realm as my earlier inspiration.

Totally unrelated, but I have recently discovered Death Note. OMG. As a result, this chapter may be more… morbid.

REVIEWERS ARE LOVE!

**SkaleFlapper15 **Taaadaaa is an update!

**Fujimori Chikaru **Well thank you very much. I hope you enjoy this chapter too. I appreciate your exuberance.

**Affy-Bakura **Charlotte's a little creepy, its in her character. By a little, I mean a lot, heh. As for stupid, I don't know. None of them knew what happened before they arrived, and how can you predict sudden chloroform attack? Still, preparation is everything…

**BakushippingxForever **Yeah, that chapter was way too short. This one is longer… I was in a rush to get that last one out.

**Ani **You'll see… And really, how is winning every duel and beating every enemy he confronts going to do anything about his ego problem? He generally just walks or runs into situations head on, and only when he duels is he somewhat subtle. Lol

**earthluva** Yeah, a killer temper indeed. Yami meets all non duelling problem head on, I've never seen him make a subtle entrance.

**Vampires-and-Wearwolves **Your anxiety is well placed, heh. I've really come to like Charlotte, actually. I agree with you there. Much appreciated, I do the best I can. Side notes, with that hair its not a difficult assumption to make.

Its always struck me as weird, the way so few people notice Yugi changing into Yami, even if the Anime's dramatic spinning light show with announcement doesn't really happen.

Onward, to the epic this is where this was all going chapter of DOOOOOOM… and stuff.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

The moment Yami's eyes opened, he found himself face to face, eye to eye, with his assailant, his rival. Bakura, in Ryou's body at the moment, laughed in his face, their noses mere inches apart.

"I believe this time, I've won." Bakura said, pride and pure satisfaction coloring his words.

"You've won nothing yet! This game of yours isn't over, it can't be." Yami glanced around quickly, trying to assess the situation, to banish the confusion that threatened to take over. He was bound, he knew that much. He could see Mark to his right, and Andrew to his left, and that both were bound as he was, kneeling over a carved block of stone.

"That is correct, it isn't over." Bakura straightened, and turned away. He walked casually to the circle's centre.

"The last moves are yet to be made, but dear Pharaoh, God among men," He spat the title like a curse "you've already lost. There is no hope for you, no way out. No trick, no sudden recovery. In fact, allow me to let you in on a little secret."

He smiled, and walked back to Yami, leaning in close to his ear. Bakura's hot breath blew across Yami's neck as he whispered "You're all going to die down here."

He laughed manically as he walked away again, presumably to prepare for what was to come.

"Wait!" Yami called desperately. He had to stall, at least. He needed to give fate enough time to twist and change in his favour.

"I will never grow weary of your distress, child of Horus. Tell me, what is it?" The thief king asked, coming to a halt once again.

"What do you hope to accomplish with this? You won't get the puzzle! Killing Yugi-" The Pharaoh's voice caught in his throat, fear overtaking him for a moment. Killing Yugi, it couldn't come to that, it wouldn't! he swallowed, forcing himself to continue. "It won't get you the puzzle. It will only send it to its next destined possessor. I will not die with… with Yugi, but will go on, eternal. You will accomplish nothing! I will avenge his death, of that, you can have no doubt!"

"Can't you see?" Bakura shook his head in mock pity. "It isn't about the puzzle anymore, not really. Its presence, and the presence of the Ring, will aid in what I mean to do, of course, that is why you were one of those I wanted here."

"And these two, why are they here? They have no Items, and no connection to the Shadow Realm." Yami argues.

Andrew chose this moment to speak. "It is true, we do not, but I believe there is another reason we were chosen."

Mark looked across at Andrew, and both shared a moment of understanding. Mark spoke quietly. "Its because we can See, isn't it…"

Bakura nodded. "Exactly. All three of you are powerful witches, sorcerers, psychics in your own way. It is, therefore, your blood that I need to fill the stone."

"And the forth block? Were you planning to invite someone else to this party, or is that Ryou's spot to die?" Mark demanded.

"Ryou will not be harmed." The spirit said forcefully.

"So why does he get special treatment?" Mark asked mockingly.

"Mark, do think about what you say, please?" Andrew implored.

At that moment, in an interval of silence, steps could be heard. All turned in the direction of the staircase as best they could. Out of the darkness, Charlotte came into the ghastly flickering light.

"Oooh, very dramatic. I'm afraid you've caught me somewhat unprepared, I'll admit." Bakura applauded her, his hands coming together in a slow, deliberate way, the sound echoing out into the blackness to die. His eyes were quick to note the rag in her right hand, and the bottle of Chloroform in her left. Deliberately, she tossed the glass bottle into the darkness. Out there beyond their vision, it shattered.

"Not the most ideal of moments for you to arrive. Still, your help is needed. If you… Landlord, pay attention to this, as well. As I was saying, if you fail to aid me, I will kill all of you. It will be easy, even if you escape this place. Then, I will kill those you hold dear, those you care for. For example, your little sister." He looks into Charlotte's eyes as he says this, his cold orbs boring into hers. At the mention of a sister, Charlotte looses her composure. Her eyes grow wide, her hands shake.

"Yes, I know of her. To continue, defy me, and everyone dies. Help me, however, and the circumstance of the ritual will be undone. Those who die will live. I will be satisfied. Are we clear?" Bakura grinned wickedly.

"He's lying, don't give in to him!" Yami shouted desperately.

"Yugi tells the truth, he is lying. Through his teeth, I might add. I can see it, and if he chose you for the reasons I think he did, you can see it too. What does your soul whisper, witch child?" Andrew called out.

"My soul?" Charlotte paused a long moment, a silence filled with the crackling of flames.

"It tells me I have… no choice. I must comply. What would you have me do?" Charlotte lowered her head in defeat. Only Yami, near her and with a low vantage, caught a gleam in her eye. A faint smile. Clever girl.

"Excellent." Bakura knelt down to the stone floor. He griped the edges of the medallion with his fingertips, and pulled upward. It proved to be only the top of a golden cylinder, buried in the floor. At its core was a hollow place, concealing a long, curved dagger.

Bakura drew it forth. He held it with an easy familiarity. Its surface was riddled with symbols.

"I must be free in the air for the ritual to take place. I cannot control Ryou. I would have him wield this, but… He is weak. A fool. You must do this, Charlotte. Kill them, so that their blood runs on the stone, then, you must plunge the blade into your own breast. Do it on that empty altar. Do not be afraid, you will rise again." Bakura stopped speaking, but he did not relinquish the dagger, though Charlotte held out a hand to accept it. He turned the blade of bronze this way and that in the light.

"You know, it won't hurt things at all if…" Bakura approached Yami, the bound and kneeling Yami, with the blade.

"If I take my revenge in a more… personal manner. Yami, and Yugi if you are permitted to hear your own death, I will take your life now as I leave this form. You will be the first sacrifice to my greatness!"

Bakura pressed the blade to Yami's throat. His wicked smile was back.

"No!" Charlotte cried. He wasn't supposed to do this! She drew her own knife, simple fold away department store type, and slashed at Bakura, desperately trying to stop him.

His shirt and flesh opened, a long slice across the middle of his back. He turned to her with a howl of pain and rage. Time stopped. Blood, shining red on Charlotte's small knife, but the horror, the unforgivable, earth-shattering truth that screamed in her mind, was the red on his blade as well. Too much, far too much, as a horrid gurgling sound came from behind him. Rage, white hot as she lunged, driven to kill. Bakura was no stranger to knife fights. He dodged her, his own blood spattering to the stone, some landing in the channel that now flowed red, fed by Yami's block. Fed by Yami. By Yugi, more truly. Yami, returned to the puzzle, or so he thought, screamed in horror and denial. A long cry of agony, the truest pain a soul can know. On his knees, gripping his head with brutal force, he called to Yugi futilely. The door that had led out of his soul room no longer existed. Yugi, locked in a similar prison, sobbed hopelessly.

In the material world, Bakura and Charlotte fought. The ritual blade was ever near, cutting her many times, as she barely managed to escape. Bakura's only injury was the one he had sustained while his back was turned. Still, this weakened him, otherwise Charlotte would have been dead by now.

Charlotte drove her blade at his eye, only to feel his knife cut into her side. She cried out.

As if from another existence, Andrew's voice cut into her adrenaline charged mind.

"Push him out, Charlotte! Use your strength, drive him out!"

Still locked together, striking at each other, Charlotte drove a surge of mental power at Bakura. It was so very like her unplanned attack on her father. Bakura stopped abruptly, his grip on his weapon loosening. Charlotte wasted no time; she snatched the blade from his hands, driving it into the living flesh before her, not seeing the wide, innocent eyes, or the mouth open with surprise. She was too focused to notice the swirling cloud of enrage spirit, as she drove the long dagger into her foe again and again. She fell back, or was pushed. Ryou lay on the floor, writhing in a throes of death, blood running from him onto the gold at the stone's heart, mingling with Yugi's trail that had made its way here, to the middle. Something strange was happening, however.

* * *

No, he can't die, not him! The thought ran like electricity through Bakura's formless form.

I will save him!

The spirit sought to mend the bleeding flesh, to draw together the wounds, using the strength of Ryou's own blood, taking the red fluid that pumped out into himself until he was saturated with it, but Ryou still bled. Maddened now with the blood, driven to obtain more as he was driven to heal his landlord, his light, he dove into Ryou's body, but not as he had before. The very core of him was in the blood, racing through the veins, cells merging and twisting and mutating and becoming…

* * *

"No, stop him!" Andrew cried, struggling madly to free himself. "This cannot be allowed!"

Charlotte dragged herself back and away from Ryou, as his thrashing became more, not less. He started to scream, his flesh knitting together, more blood coming from his as he flopped about grotesquely. Bakura was a net of red droplets around him now, a visible web. A web that contracted, was pulled into Ryou with the blood, all of the blood drawn inside his body once again. Ryou continues to scream, even as the last of his injuries closed over. "Its burning me, get it out!" He shrieked coherently, his hands passing over himself haphazardly, as if trying to catch some insect that crawled swiftly across his skin. His hands came to his chest, and began clawing over his heart, nails raking across his skin, leaving long red lines. At last, he stopped. His hands fell to his sides, and he began to sob.

Charlotte stood slowly, backing away. Was her enemy about to attack her again?

Ryou remained where he was, so she limped around the circumference of the circle, making her way to Andrew.

"The key?" He whispered.

"No need." She replied wearily, producing a small thin instrument from her pocket.

"dad used to lock the food in the cupboards." She explained, and began to deftly pick the lock. Soon, Andrew was standing free, rubbing his wrists to ease the discomfort. He helped her to reach Mark, and supported her as she set him loose as well.

None of them wanted to look at the third captive, who would walk free no more. Bravely, Charlotte raised her eyes.

Yugi was himself again, that was clear. He was face down on the stone, blood ran from him still, though slowly, and so little. Across an entire quarter of the circle, it drew complex lines and patterns. There could be no doubt. He'd bled to death. The puzzle, hanging down from the front to the stone had small streaks of blood on its face, tracing the single eye. Should someone fetch it? No one seemed to want to.

A moan from Ryou brought attention back to him. He sat up slowly, looking around in wonder. He blinked, winced. With one arm, he shielded his eyes from the burning torches.

"Ryou… how do you feel?" Andrew asked cautiously.

Ryou's head snapped in his direction, eyes still squinting in the torchlight. "Everything's dancing, but my eyes… the light, it hurts…" He started to stand, but halfway up, he doubled over, his arms around his stomach. "Ah!" He gasped, then turned from them, dashing into the darkness. Fast. Impossibly fast.

"Oh no… it can't be…" Andrew muttered.

Mark looked to him, confusion apparent in his eyes. "What can't be? Andrew, what's going on?"

"A new root, a new beginning to a new vine, I fear." Andrew replied cryptically. "Pray that it is not so."

In the darkness, sobbing could be heard, coming from a distance.

"We should go find him." Charlotte said, starting to limp into the void, despite her wounds.

"Not you, honey." Mark said, taking stock of her injuries.

"Mark, don't. The risk…" Andrew said, responding to an unspoken thought.

"I'm going. If anyone's ever needed our help, its him. The spirit doesn't think anymore, and Ryou… Ryou wouldn't hurt me."

"Be careful." Andrew cautioned.

"Will do!" Mark replied cheerfully, walking off in the direction of the intermittent sobs.

Totally blind, he had only sound to guide him at first. It was a very long walk, after all, who knew how big this place was? Unexpectedly, after some time, it felt like an hour, smell became a factor. A foul, sick smell, of bedpans and vomit. It grew stronger as he followed the sounds, leading him to believe that the poor boy had voided himself, while being sick.

"Ryou?" He called out, when his nose told him he was very close. A quiet sob answered him.

"Ryou, I don't want to hurt you, and I don't mind that you were sick. Let me help you." He moved closer, his shoe splatting in something wet and thick on the floor. "Here, you can have my shirt, its big enough to be a nightshirt on you. Change out of those dirty clothes."

Mark took off his shirt, which was big on him anyway, and offered it to the hidden boy. It was snatched from his hands. Goosebumps rose over his body. Something very wrong.

There was a shuffling in the dark, a splat as wet material, likely Ryou's pants, hit the wet floor. Ryou's shirt was next, making less noise as it was relatively dryer, though he had presumably cleaned himself with it. The faint sound of cloth sliding over itself and skin could be heard.

"Thank you." Ryou said quietly, his voice somehow… off. It was clearer, stronger without being deeper.

"How do you feel? Can you… walk back?" Mark asked tentatively.

"I feel… different. it's a good different, I think, but… What's happened to me? I'm so… and you smell truly…" Ryou trailed into silence, and Mark became distinctly panicky.

Back in the circle of light, Andrew bandaged Charlotte as best he could, using her jacket and his own shirt. The bleeding had stopped, at least. Both looked anxiously out, waiting for Mark and Ryou to return. Finally, as the torches burned low, they saw Ryou. He was wearing only a white shirt, one that was far too big for him, and hung to his knees. He looked truly ethereal. In the gathering dark, they could see two streaks of dark color streaming from his eyes. He was alone.

"I'm sorry. I think… I couldn't help it! He was so kind, and I, oh please help me!" Ryou buried his face in his hands. Andrew moved forward, put a hand on his shoulder. No warmth came from Ryou. He was cold.

"Its night. Lets get you somewhere else. I'm going to try to help you. The Talamasca will help you. I know none of this is your fault. I know Mark…" Andrew's voice caught in his throat. "I know Mark is probably not coming back; and I know why."

Ryou moaned, shame and hurt overcoming him. Shame, because it had been so good, so perfect… Hurt because he had… killed. Felt Mark die in his arms. He should die too, only… everything was so new, so filled with light and movement. Confused, newborn monster that he was, he let Andrew guide him up the steps that would lead to.. What? Ryou had no clue.

"Wait…" Ryou said, breaking from Andrew's grip and going back, the circle lit now by fewer sputtering flames. Ryou went to Yugi, touched his friend's hair. Reverently, he removed the puzzle. "It can't stay here." He nodded to Andrew, and rejoined both him and Charlotte, to ascend the stairway out of this place.

"We have agents who will return for our friends. They will be given proper… proper burial." Andrew wiped a single tear from his eye.

Ryou shook with raw emotion. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…"

"I know." Andrew assured him.

Charlotte, apprehensive and wary, followed them up the endless stairway. Her Witches eyes told her one undeniable fact. Ryou was, for lack of a better way to describe it, not alive, but filled with a demonic energy that animated him and held his soul trapped within his body. Unnatural creature. But still… an innocent.

* * *

So, do you want to know what happens next, or should I end it here? What's happened to Ryou? (If you don't already know) Will Yami remain imprisoned in the puzzle? What will Yugi's friends think at his funeral? I'll tell you… maybe. if you want. Oh, I'm bad.

Oh, and MUAHAHAHAHA I killed Yugi! In your face, Main Character Powers!


	14. Chapter 14

Ok, I almost didn't write this, but thanks to a few late reviewers, I managed to delve back into this world for the sake of this chapter. Of course, now I want to do more, and I'll include a bit of a teaser at the end of this one. I'm not going to thank all my reviewers individually this time, because quite frankly, I really want to get this out there. One or two chapters more on this one I think, and I may, may do a sequel.

But to the two who really gave me that recent shove, those without whom this chapter would never have happened, SkaleFlapper15 and IkutosGirl, I thank you.

Everyone else rocks too! 3

'Kay, i admit, I'm drawing off Queen Of the Damned almost exclusively for this chapter. If I write another, it'll be more Charlotte centred, and will go back to the Witching eliment. Everyone was confused about Ryou so... taadaa is an explaination!

* * *

**And Then **

An overnight flight, a limousine traveling in darkness, brought Ryou, Charlotte, and Andrew to the Talamasca motherhouse in London. Ryou had said nothing, clutching the puzzle and staring out the window, or perhaps at the specks of dust on the window. Charlotte assured Andrew that she would not be missed, her only living relation was her sister, who lived with an Aunt across town.

They would return for the funerals, but for now, time was needed. No one was unscathed, no soul unchanged. They had to take stock, to put the past into the past, so that, each in their own way, they could move on to the future. The long, luxurious car carried them up the lengthy drive of a huge mansion.

Charlotte ran her fingers through her technicolor hair. She had slept on the plane, while Andrew stared forward, lost in thought, or watched the silent Ryou. Her eyeliner was smudged, the least of her worries at the moment. They'd had time to change clothes during a layover, so Charlotte was wearing simple tight fitting jeans, and a black t-shirt. Andrew had chosen the clothes for Ryou from the bag they'd had the hotel forward to the airport. Ryou himself was uninterested in the whole procedure, refusing to release the puzzle despite the difficulty it created. He's ended up in a simple blue top and darker blue pants of ambiguous material. He'd curled up in the car, his feet on the seat, his hair falling around himself like a veil. Andrew was back in the suit and tie ensemble, having replaced the torn shirt he'd used to bandage Charlotte.

The car came to a smooth stop. Their driver opened the door, and one by one, they stepped out. Andrew led the way, completely at ease. In the night, the lawn was lit throughout, revealing the complex and beautiful landscaping. Through the large Oak front doors with their elaborate handles they passed, into a classic English entryway, with comfortable chairs and a long soft rug covering most of the dark wood floor. Here and there were people in the chairs, a lamp lit behind them, and books or file folders held in various comfortable manners.

"I will return in a moment; I must secure rooms for you both. There are always plenty to spare in the Motherhouses; they are so big, after all. Ryou's will, of course, be one of those we've set aside for others like him. Yes, there are others. We will talk later, you and I." He climbed a large solid staircase at the other end of the entranceway, not bothering to glance into any of the doorways to the left or right. He knew his way.

Ryou and Charlotte stood abandoned in the middle of the room, both distinctly aware of the other people, or, more specifically, aware of the general effort to avoid staring. Andrew had called ahead, they remembered that, and it seemed to explain the abnormal number of people awake at this time. There was the lingering feeling that everyone's thoughts were on them.

It wasn't long, thankfully, before Andrew returned. He'd brought a woman with him, middle aged and not stern, not mean, yet… strong. That was really the best way to describe her.

"Charlotte, this is Bernidette. She will escort you to your room, and if you would be so kind as to talk to her, she is here to help you. She will explain things more fully than I have thus far. Ryou, you will come with me." Andrew placed a hand on Ryou's shoulder, as Charlotte was led away by this new woman, both of them ascending the wooden staircase.

Ryou and Andrew, however, passed through a door on the left, finding themselves in a huge library.

"You can feel free to browse here at your leisure for nights to come, if that is your wish. There are a few specific volumes I would like you to look at in particular, but all in good time. For now…"

They wound through isles of books, coming to a large thickly constructed shelf near the back. Andrew slid this aside, revealing an ascending stone stairway.

"This ensures that you are not stumbled upon. We do not want another situation like… like Mark's, I'm sure you understand. While under our roof, you will harm no-one, unless they are here for that expressed purpose."

Ryou nodded as they climbed, but the reminder brought thoughts to the foreground, desire and a thirst that refused to be ignored.

"What is happening to me?" He mumbled brokenly.

Andrew looked upon him with pity. After all, few of us have much say in our lot in life, but Ryou had had none at all. This curse was thrust upon him, and now, the boy had only two options. Live with it… or die. So many like him had chosen the second option., but then really, there was only one other truly like him. Or was she?

At the top of the staircase, a doorway opened to a cosy room. There were chairs, but no bed. A bookcase stood full of an assortment of texts, from popular fiction to encyclopaedia references. Along one wall was a large hearth, deep, designed for the burning of wood. A pile of logs and kindling was there now, at the ready.

"We try to keep this room prepared at all times, to offer shelter to those in need." Andrew explained, lighting a match and starting the fire. He turned to Ryou, Andrew silhouetted by the growing flames.

"You must have many questions. I will answer as best I can, for that is our paramount goal. I ask only one thing in return; that you freely and openly answer those questions of my own." Andrew sat in a large, comfortable red armchair by the fire, and gestured cordially that Ryou should take the seat opposite him.

Cautiously, Ryou did sit, though he shied away from the fire. The glare was… not painful, no but, uncomfortable. The thirst, the craving rose in him again, at the sight of firelight dancing across the curve of Andrew's chocolate skin.

"Resist, Ryou. Know that you would kill me if you give in to it." Andre cautioned.

Ryou nodded, eyes wide. "But, I don't understand what… what's happening, why do I… and where is Bakura?"

Andrew sighed. "The full explanation is a very long story, you can find it buried within those books, on the middle shelf. The shortened version, however, is this. Once, long ago, a king and queen attempted to confront a bloodthirsty demon. They were attacked, not by the demon, but by traitors within their own court. This was in the early days of the Egyptians.

"Those traitors accidentally provided this demon exactly what it wanted; blood, and in large volumes. He entered the Queen's very bloodstream, the tiny cells and particles that form him merging with hers and changing until he was no longer himself, and her blood was no longer blood. The core of the powerful spirit, his seat of consciousness, became one with her heart, her mind. In that moment, her wounds were healed, and a powerful thirst sprang up. She took her husband and drank his blood, but in despair of his dying, she gave him the blood back through her wrist. The nature of the spirit in her was huge, virulent. It spread, making his remaining blood like unto its own. The core remained in her, however.

"She created a religion from this, gave her curse to others, and in time, rebel drinkers of the blood sprang up, spreading over the earth. Only recently, this queen was destroyed, and the core taken into another, lest the entire line be destroyed."

Ryou shook his head, confused. "What has all this to do with me?"

Andrew frowned, thoughtful. "Well, nothing. And everything. Nothing, in that you are not of this line. If the current queen, the current mother, dies, you will not. However, I believe that the same sort of event that changed Akasha, the queen, so many years ago, has also changed you. In fact, I am almost certain of it. However, you may differ from them. It was a different spirit after all, and he entered your blood for a different reason. He may have been seeking more strength, or perhaps he sought to heal you, to save you, though through need of you or concern for you, I do not know. Whatever the matter, the result is the same. He is no more, save for the part of him that resides in you. The part that animates you, and in fact, now keeps you alive. Your body is dead, Ryou, and only your blood lives. Your blood, his blood, running through every muscle, through your brain, your eyes and ears, this blood that demands more of itself, more blood to use, to continue the change upon your flesh that is ongoing. The sun will probably kill you; it kills the others unless they are very old. That is why there is a chamber beneath the floor here, utterly closed off from the light, where you can sleep for the day. The bars on the windows are for your protection; often the Blood-drinkers come here seeking safety from their enemies."

Ryou stared, open mouthed. He didn't have obvious fangs, Andrew noted, until his eyes drifted again to the curve of the Investigator's neck. Then, like those of a snake, two thick points hinged forward from sheaths of flesh at the roof of the mouth.

"That's different." Andrew muttered.

"What is?" Ryou asked, snapping out of his temporary stupor.

"Your teeth. The others have modified eyeteeth, the third from the centre, often called the canine teeth. You… are somewhat more elaborate."

Ryou groaned.

"Are your attempting to tell me that I am some sort of Vampire?" Ryou asked, disbelieving, with a half-laugh. He remembered only too clearly what he's done to Mark, however.

Andrew looked very serious, grave. "Some sort, yes, I believe you've phrased it well."

"Well what do I bloody do now? You say this blood is all that's keeping me alive, and I can very well guess how I'm supposed to feed it, but I'm not a murderer!" Ryou had risen, and paced back and forth as he shouted, gesturing animatedly in a way that was most unusual for him.

"Calm down, Ryou. We don't want anyone hurt, and I don't want you breaking furniture."

Ryou's eye twitched, he looked almost ready to explode. In fact, his attitude was very much like that of…

"Ryou. Control yourself. I need you to tell me, who was this Bakura to you? Why did this spirit borrow your appearance, and attach himself to you?" Andrew asked, rising from the chair to tower over the angry pale one.

"He was my dark, my other half! He was me, I mean, in ancient Egypt, he was me, but a ritual sealed his darkness within the ring. The light was left to re-incarnate, until finally, the ring, he, came to me. He told me about it. The same thing happened to Yugi and Yami." Ryou choked. Yugi and Yami.

He calmed down a great deal then, plopping himself back into the chair. Andrew, relieved, resumed his seat as well.

"So, this may be seen in another light now. Perhaps he did what he did… to be whole again. He was not a foreign invader, an alien spirit attaching itself to a complete soul. He was, without being aware of it I'm sure, bringing the two halves of your soul together. His core and your core are one. As a result, I suspect a slight change in your personality. You are him, in a very real sense, and he is you." Andrew spoke as if he were just realising what he was saying as he said it.

"No, he isn't me! I am NOTHING like him!" Ryou slammed his clenched fist into the chair's arm. He broke it.

Ryou started sobbing. "He killed my friends. How can I accept that he is part of me now? That means I killed them, doesn't it?"

"No, it does not. You are not him, the violent, the mad. Nor are you yourself, the meek, the pure. You are who you were meant to be. Balanced, save for this new reality that has been thrust upon you. You may need his instability, his calculating darkness, to survive what is to come, whatever that may be. I know one thing, though. If you do intend to live, you will have to kill. On that note, I have advice. Prey only upon those who are truly evil and corrupt. The murderers, rapists, drug dealers, you know the type. This will save your conscience, and mine as well." Andrew leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingers together to form a kind of steeple.

"We can store your golden artefacts in our vaults if you would like, and we will return them to you at your request."

Ryou was startled. He'd forgotten about the sennen items. They were here though, the ring and the puzzle. "Thank you for your offer. You may keep the puzzle here, but the Ring… that is mine. I will not surrender what is mine."

He hung the ring around his neck, comforted by its golden weight.

"Ah. It would appear that he is in you, after all." Andrew commented.

Ryou's eyes flashed to him, a deadly warning clear behind them. Ryou was not angered by a lie, though. He was furious, because Andrew could see the truth, and now, Ryou could as well.

"The others. Tell me about the other kind. Are they a threat to me?" Ryou asked, politely, but with force.

"They could be. There are places you should avoid, individuals who guard their territory fiercely. I do not know your strength, but I can assume it is more than a fledgling among them, yet not nearly the strength of one who is even two hundred years old. You are just starting on your path. What you will be able to do in time, no one can tell you."

Ryou nodded. "So for now, I should avoid them? And you said two hundred… how long can they live exactly?"

"Forever. Or so we assume. Most kill themselves, to be honest, but some have survived since the time of the Queen. Like marble, they are the red-haired twins."

Ryou lapsed into silence, mentally processing all he had been told. Slowly he became aware of an agitation. His eyes drew away from the window of their own accord, and a dim light in the room itched at his eyes like grains of sand.

"I-I think the sun is rising." Ryou said uneasily, glancing toward the spot in the floor where he could escape it.

"Then I will leave you to you rest. I must see how Charlotte is coming along, though she has probably fallen asleep long before now." Andrew rose, and crossed the room to the stairway. He paused at the top, and turned back.

"Know this. We do not normally allow those such as yourself to harm any under our roof. Your situation is, however, unique. You will not be safe for us until you have fed. When you awake, there will be a suitable man waiting for you." Andrew frowned in distaste, as if he found the whole thing quite appalling but was too polite to show it more plainly.

"Farewell, until tomorrow night." Andrew descended the stairway, disappearing from sight. Ryou slid the stone slab on the floor loose, escaping the growing light the only persistent thought on his mind. He did not cringe from the narrow place, but slid gratefully into it, using his palms to lift and slide the stone back into place. Rubber seals blocked out all light. His eyes closed, and he slept.

* * *

So,

Remember that teaser I promised? More an idea that popped into my mind, really. Yami died in Yugi's body. Yugi was in the puzzle at the time. Soooo… oh ho the intrigue! And Ryou will still be around when Yami re-incarnates, right? OHOHO!


	15. Chapter X

This is it guys. For real, this is the last chapter. Of this story. Ever. Sequel does not count as same story, so there. :Insert appropriate emote:

Here it is on a silver platter with a fork, spoon, and knife, and a fancy napkin all folded pretty. Mind your manners, y'all.

* * *

**Chapter X (Cause I'm that cool)**

Charlotte awoke in an unfamiliar room. This wasn't home… She blearily took in the Victorian furnishings, the feathered bed, headboard, writing desk with a computer way better than hers at home. There was a prepared breakfast on her nightstand, pancakes, fresh orange juice, hot coffee. The old analog clock on the stand said it was noon. Yet this breakfast was sitting here, ready for her when she woke. There was a note on it, folded. She opened it, and as she did, all her memories came crashing down on her. She couldn't quite figure out when she'd fallen asleep, though.

"Charlotte,

Good morning. I wish to speak with you when you have eaten; you fell asleep last night rather earlier than we had hoped. You've had a trying time, we understand that. Please, take your time, then join Andrew and I in the library. It is down the stairs. Your meal should be fresh, we had it brought up shortly before you would wake.

-Bernadette"

Charlotte sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. This was certainly an odd turn of events, but then, things had been crazy since she met that short kid on the bus. Poor guy, she'd tried to save him, she really had. It was all just… out of her control. She took a sip of the juice, looked at it with amazement, then quickly downed the whole glass. Everything else was just as delicious, and her coffee was exactly the way she liked it; black, but with enough sugar to poison a hummingbird. These people were good. Too good, maybe, but she found it hard not to trust them. Everywhere, she felt only positive, wholesome vibes.

She was wearing a long nightdress; she vaguely remembered putting it on before collapsing into the pillows. Her suitcase was at the foot of the bed, open and waiting for her. She dug out a pair of black, somewhat ragged jeans, a red undershirt with a skull on it, and a black fishnet over shirt with long sleeves, that showed the shirt beneath it off with wonderful contrast. She'd once debated going out in public with only the fishnet shirt on, just to see what people would do, but we'll say here that she did not.

Charlotte checked herself in the ornate mirror, applied copious amounts of makeup, in dark black and plum lips, fixed her hair (Brushed it into complete disarray), and headed out the door.

She could see that the people she passed were, for the most part, very prim and proper. Her hair and outfit stood out, but she was used to that. Preferred it, actually. Down the stairs, bump into an elderly man holding a pamphlet, sorry 'bout that my bad, through the lobby and into the library.

This warehouse of books wasn't really like the public libraries Charlotte had been to in the past. It had the feeling of being cosier, more personal, yet it was clearly a place where no one would shush you for being loud. A group sat laughing in a secluded corner as she passed. Another, a young man by himself, was staring at his book with extreme focus. The pages were turning by themselves, or rather, he was turning them with only his mind. She shook her head with amusement, and continued on, until she could see the distinctive back of Andrew's head. A woman she knew was Bernadette from their meeting the night before sat across from him, and smiled at Charlotte as she approached.

"Ah, there you are. We were just expecting you." Bernadette said warmly.

"Yes, yes, Charlotte, please sit down. We have much to discuss." Andrew said, turning in his seat to face her. She sat down politely in an empty chair, the three of them in a nook of sorts around a small table.

Andrew's eyes were drooping, and he had obvious circles beneath them. Still, he seemed attentive to what was going on.

"That's the coffee." He commented pleasantly, to Charlotte's unspoken thought. "I was awake all night you see, talking to Ryou. I must say, he's adjusting better than I'd expected. I've managed to get a few hours sleep, but I did want to speak with you, and so… here I am."

"Yes, here you are. You work yourself too hard, my friend." Bernadette said playfully.

"How is Ryou, anyway? Or, well, what's going on with him?" Charlotte enquired, wondering why Ryou wasn't with them at the table.

"He is doing well, as I said. I would rather not delve into the specifics just now, if you don't mind. We were here discussing you." Andrew smiled, and looked into Charlotte's eyes. Where she would normally have found an impression of his thoughts, she came across only a brick wall, impenetrable.

"Yes, let me get right to the point. Charlotte, Andrew mentioned that your absence would cause no problems. We have looked into the matter, and do you not live with your father? Had he not had you brought home several times after you attempted to run away?" Bernadette said in a matter of fact manner.

"My father is…" She paused, trying to think up a convincing falsehood. As he mind lingered on her father, particularly one of the times she'd run away with a broken arm, both Andrew and Bernadette's faces changed, first to concern, then to shock.

"We had no idea, honey, don't worry, we won't send you back there. In fact, the police should be involved, if he'd hurt you that badly. I can't believe this went on as long as it did." Bernadette shook her head gravely.

"But what were you hiding? There was something you blocked out, and not intentionally, I think. It was not guilt that clouded it, nor fear of him. It was… fear of us, I think. Is this something we need to know?" Andrew asked.

Charlotte raised her head, meeting the eyes of both. She spoke with confidence, as if challenging them to deny her right to do what she had done.

"Before I left that last night, he was… being him again, shouting and threatening and, well, being him. I was in a hurry though, I didn't have time for his bullshit! So, I killed him. I'm not sure how I did it, its just, one second he was alive and shouting, then I felt this power in me, then he was on the floor. He deserved it, and I'm not ashamed of what I've done. I stepped on him on the way out the door." Charlotte looked from one stunned face to the other, as if daring them to defy her, to throw her out, to hurt her.

"I trust this is something that will not happen again? We can teach you to control this power, to subdue it and use it only when it is morally necessary to save yourself or another. We know of only one other individual with the level of power you possess. She is a prominent neurosurgeon and neurologist, the matriarch of a vast hospital owned and run by herself, through a family inheritance. As such, it would be difficult, and likely fruitless, to arrange a meeting." Andrew said.

Bernadette smiled. "Don't you go summoning any spirits, and I think you'll do just fine. I'm fairly certain no one will connect you to your fathers death. We will not judge you for it; it was a circumstantial inevitability, and you'd had no idea what you were capable of."

Charlotte slouched down into her chair, relieved. "So, if this isn't to punish me, what are we talking about here?"

"Do you like it here?" Bernadette asked.

"Yes, it's a bit overdressed, but it suits you all." Charlotte replied.

"Would you like to live here? Join our order, for we do need people like you, and understand this is an open offer, there is no punishment if you refuse." Andrew leaned forward, her response clearly important to him.

"Ok, what's the catch? I move in here, what do I have to do for you in return?" Charlotte asked shrewdly.

Bernadette replied, in a tone that implied perceived ungratefulness on Charlottes part. "We are an order of Psychic detectives, in a sense. You would have to either provide proof of learning, or receive tutoring here. You could also go to one of the prestigious boarding schools. Uniform boarding schools. Once you are judged ready, and have looked through a number of our files, you will be sent to do what we call "Fieldwork" As a junior member, you would go with a mentor, an older member, such as myself or Andrew. You with perform hands on research into things such as hauntings, cases of possession, psychic individuals, and perhaps if you show sufficient strength and talent, you will be permitted to work with our more dangerous subjects." Bernadette seemed to look through Charlotte, as if judging her worthiness.

"Sounds… exciting. Where do I sign up? I'm smarter than I look, trust me, If I need grades, I'll get them; But no uniforms, ok? What about Ryou, anyway? Where is he? I really wanted to talk to him."

"He is… indisposed. I am not certain how to proceed here. His is one of those dangerous assignments for witch you are unqualified. However, you are uniquely involved, and might I add, particularly useful in this situation. I have a task that must be done, but I myself would find it far more difficult and dangerous than you would. You look the part, you can defend yourself with deadly force in an instant, and you can identify the kind of person we need without error." Andrew said wearily.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this. What do you want me to do? How will it help Ryou?" Charlotte was intrigued, but wary as well.

"What I ask of you, and know that you can refuse to do this, is as follows. Go out to the city, and bring back here some unwholesome, truly evil being who deserves life less even than your late father. Speak of it to none of the other members; most would forbid it if they knew. Shield your thoughts. You will show them to the room behind the bookshelf over there, and up the stair. Leave him or her there, waiting under some pretence, then get out as fast as possible, before dark. This individual will die. Will you undertake this task?" Andrew asked, giving no nudge one way or another. She would decide for herself.

"And this will help Ryou? Ok… I trust you people, for some reason. Go out on the town, pick up some scum, bring it back. Got it." Charlotte stood up from her chair and smirked at Andrew. "This would be easier at night, but I believe you when you say it had to be before dark. I'll be right back. Oh, hey, can I borrow a car?"

"We have a community garage. Any vehicle not privately owned will have keys already in the ignition." Bernadette said, shooting Andrew a cautious look. She herself wasn't entirely sure what he was up to. Witchcraft was her specialty.

" 'kay, got it!" Charlotte left the library with a certain swagger. All confidence.

* * *

The pub was dim, with tarnished brass taps and a layer of dirt over everything. Smoke hung in the air, and the powdery residue of cocaine was clear on the counter. Big biker type sat next to her, leaned far too close. "Hey, honey, how's about I take you for a ride?"

She smiled at him, shifting herself to display the curve of her neck, and her breasts. "You bad, boy?" She asked coyly, sending a mental probe into his mind. He sure is, killed his last girl, crushed her throat with those big arms of his. Killed his mother, too. Many more, business deals, drugs, gonna rape her if she doesn't go along with it. Perfect.

"The worst." He grinned, displaying two steel teeth. He brushed her chin clumsily with one massive hand.

"Come on, I know a place, got some white stuff there, too." Charlotte said, winking at him. She slid deftly from his twining arms, walking with swaying hips to the door. He stood up to follow. Wow, huge. Steroids, probably. A cinch to get him into the big black convertible she'd borrowed.

"Daddy's car?" He asked with a chuckle, as he tried to take the drivers seat.

"Heck no, I'm driving." She protested, but changed her mind with the look he shot her. Don't want to have to kill him and find another.

She complacently took the passenger seat, massaging his leg as he accelerated away from the pub.

"So where to, honey?" He growled, and she compliantly pointed out the directions as they went. Into the countryside they drove.

"Kinda far out, don't you think?" He said after a little while.

"Trust me, its worth it." She replied with a purr, as they rounded the final curve, and the building came into view, complete with landscaped lawn.

"Woah, no kidding." he looked at the place apprehensively.

"Don't worry, no one cares what I do. I've got free run, you might say." Charlotte assured, as the pulled up the lengthy driveway. "Leave the keys in the car."

She jumped out over the door. The sun was setting, the sky a beautiful burnt orange. Cutting it close.

"Come on, hurry!" She pouted, pressing herself against him. Felt his gun. Shit, well, she should have expected some sort of weapon. She pulled him after her, through the main doors, past the random people sitting around. She thought only of his metal tooth, a trick she's picked up from watching Bernadette. He had no idea why he was here; he wouldn't be giving anything away. Through the library, to the bookcase. She winked at him, and slid the case aside.

"Woah, medieval. So what you got behind that trapdoor, hun?"

She led the way up the staircase, to the private room at the top.

"What, no bed? And where are you keeping the drugs?"

She shrugged, looking around for a door, some alternate way for Ryou to get in here. She didn't see anything obvious, but that was to be expected. The sky was getting alarmingly dark. "I'll tell you in a minute, first I have to go get drinks. You just stay up here. Don't want anyone asking… too many…" Charlotte faded off into silence.

A big patch of floor was moving. Hastily, she backed toward the stairway.

He hadn't noticed the floor shifting. "Oh, no, your not running out on me that easy. Screw the drink, there's plenty of entertainment up here. I'm not letting you get me drunk so you can run off with my stuff."

This situation was quickly spinning out of control. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, just as the stone slid free of the floor with a grinding noise. That distracted him, though he didn't relinquish his hold on Charlotte. He turned, his drug-addled mind slowly trying to make sense of the scene before him.

A slab of the floor was askew, and there was someone else in the room. That someone else was thin, gaunt even, and staring at him with hungry intensity. Pale skin, pale hair, pale clothes. "Who the hell are you? I'll shoot you, I swear!"

Biker drew the pistol from his belt, pushing Charlotte away so he could aim with both hands. She fell to the side, hitting her head on a wall. One shot fired, missed completely. The bullet pinged off the stone wall. There wasn't time for a second shot. Ryou snarled, and leaped with inhuman speed at the man's thick neck. He went over backwards onto the floor, driven by the impact, with Ryou on top of him, straddling his powerful chest, face buried into the man's neck. His struggles ceased abruptly, as the color faded from his skin. He was pale at first, then almost grey, as his chest struggled to ride and fall, rise and fall, Ryou bobbing in time. At last, the chest rose no more. Ryou drew back, and stared at the man in a hopeless, forlorn way. His eyes flicked to Charlotte. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No… your timing was perfect. A few more moments, and I wouldn't have been able to wait for you. But what did you…"

"Do? I took what I needed from him… I took all he had to give. I hate myself, that I had to do it, but you can't imagine the smell, his smell, your… scent is…" Ryou's eyes grew wide as he stared at her, his expression blank. She noticed that he was no longer so unhealthily thin, but that look of hunger had returned to his eyes.

"Ryou… Don't…" She protested softly, leaning away as he slowly came toward her.

She could have died then, if Andrew hadn't rushed up the stairs at that moment.

"Leave her, Ryou!" He shouted, as he reached the top of the stairs.

Ryou blinked once, looked at Charlotte with complete horror, and was in an instant on the other side of the room, sobbing.

"Charlotte, leave us. We will discuss the importance of following rules later." Andrew commanded, his eyes not leaving the boy crouched in the corner.

Charlotte scrambled away, retreating down the stairs as quickly as she could. In the library, she collapsed into a big puffy green couch. The stress and the tension was far too much, and with its sudden release, she did the only thing that seemed natural at that moment. She laughed, hysterically. She couldn't help it really. It wasn't that anything was funny, its just, it was all so strange!

Meanwhile, at the top of the stairs, Andrew stood over Ryou, his face stern, while Ryou continued to shake with sobs.

"You almost killed her, you know that." Andrew said to him calmly.

Ryou looked up at him, still huddled on the floor. His eyes were wide, dripping with tears that ran clear, not red as the other kind's did. He nodded, certain his throat would not allow him coherent speech at the moment.

"You will have to hunt for yourself from now on. You will start by removing this unfortunate man. Do not be seen. We will discuss your future when you return. I fear you will not be able to make of this place a permanent home. I knew that from the start, in fact, but I had assumed you would drift away on your own, just as the others have in the past. As it is, I still wish to speak with you, answer your questions as they come, and receive in return updates of your development. However, you need to make your own way in the world. I was planning to have Charlotte guide you, on your first trip into the city, but as I'm sure you can see, that is quite impossible now. For the moment, the cadaver is your first concern. Dispose of it, and we will talk when you return."

Ryou nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He really looked quite diminished, until a determination set in his eyes. He would do what was asked of him, but there was something else, a half formed idea circling at the back of his mind, growing from a desire to not be alone.

Ryou was at a loss when he looked at the huge man; how on earth was he supposed to… Oh well, he would try, at least. He took hold of an arm, and gave an experimental tug. The corpse moved. It was actually quite light. Like it was made of Styrofoam.

Andrew went to the barred window, and produced a key. He unlocked the frame, and the entire barred section swung free. He threw the key to Ryou. "For your convenience."

Ryou went to the window, dragging the body behind him. He looked down. It was a long drop.

"So, I simply throw him out, then go down the stairs?" Ryou asked.

"No, you're going with him. You shouldn't be hurt."

Ryou looked at Andrew like he was insane. Still, he heaved the body out before him, keeping a hold on the one arm. It hung there like some grotesque rag doll. Ryou hopped onto the sill, and lowered one leg down, then the other, holding onto the window with one hand. He found he could find a grip easily in the uneven stone blocks. This wasn't difficult at all. He pushed off, and dropped freely the last twenty or so feet, landing soundlessly unharmed. He shot a triumphant look back at the tower window, so high above him. He had a brief thought, that before their souls had been split, he'd been a tomb robber. He could almost picture that, now. There was a thrill in achieving the impossible.

He set off into the countryside, running faster and faster, until the world flashed by in brief sliding pictures. Everything was so beautiful, the light of the moon and stars illuminating all with a silver-purple radiance. It was as bright as any day in his life. He's been going for some time when he remembered the arm he was holding onto. To his horror, he found that it was now only an arm. The rest must have broken apart on rocks and logs while he was running. This… could be a problem. He dropped the husk of a limb, recoiling from it. Well, it was disposed of, wasn't it? He could hear the sounds of the highway to his left, the cars zooming by, the conversations within those cars, the radios playing.

He pressed his hands to his ears. He still heard it when a car rolled to a stop, crunching on gravel, not 50 meters from his location.

"No, please, what do you want from me?" A woman screamed.

"Didn't you know, mam? Hitchhiking is dangerous. All sorts of bad people on the road." A man said. Ryou's thirst rose up in him.

He crept toward the scene. He could see the man with a knife to the woman's throat. He was walking her toward the forest. He didn't make it there. Ryou was on him, dragging him to the dirt the way a weasel drags a rabbit. The woman fell back, screaming. The sound hurt Ryou's ears. The man was empty, dry, but the thirst would not be still. It was raging. Her screams were so piercing, so annoying! In a red haze, she fell before him, too. No more screaming. What a relief. When it was done, and there was no more blood in the air, Ryou realised what he'd done. She would have died anyway, his mind reasoned, the part of him that was probably Bakura, but his conscience would have none of it. He ran, though where to, he had no idea. Morning found him alone in the countryside, the warning screeching or him to find shelter. In an old abandoned church, beneath the stones of the altar, he found safety from the dawn.

* * *

The news the next day was filled with horror; the bodies of the man and the woman had been found, and a search of the area turned up a random arm. The search grew wider, and slowly more body parts turned up, in a line. The nature of the bodies, and the scattered limbs, baffled forensics. An effort was underway to discover the source of the trajectory, and perhaps some clue as to the guilty party.

Charlotte was sent to America; she was most likely to become a suspect. She'd been seen with the biker, and her father would not go undiscovered forever. She would continue her apprenticeship at Oak Haven, the motherhouse near New Orleans. She took the puzzle with her there; no one knew Ryou's mind, his intent, or what threat he might pose to the Order.

Ryou was not seen again by any member of the Talamasca, at least, no sighting was recorded. There were rumours that Charlotte met with someone some nights, but mere rumours and whispers in a house of psychics is hardly evidence.

Time passed, and one day, a child was born to the Mayfair family. A child with startling purple eyes, hair that even early on stood up at strange angles. A child with a seriousness of expression, strategic brilliance encompassing all childhood games, and above all, a darkness that lingered about him, more potent than even the Legacy family. His given name was Adam, but more and more, people took to calling him "Dark". His Japanese relations would refer to him as "Yami".

* * *

Ya, ok, there's gonna be a sequel. I couldn't just leave you all with that! Aww, baby Yami's soo… cute? Ish? In a creepy missing-the-light-half-of-my-soul kinda way? And how will the puzzle, and Yugi, find him? How will Ryou be involved? And for those of you who aren't familiar with The Witching Hour… what significance does the Mayfair family hold?


End file.
